On The Menu
by prodigywriter
Summary: Sam and Dean travel to a small South Dakota town to find out why locals have been disappearing as well as locate fellow hunter, and friend, Reggie Connors. Little do they know what they're about to discover. Takes place during S4 between Ep 13 & 14.
1. Prologue

***So this is my second Supernatural story (revamped after I realized how I erroneously posted it as just one giant chapter) so please let me know what you think once you're finished. All reviews are much appreciated (apologies to those who read/tried to read while it was one giant chapter - I'm new to this thing, sorry!). It brings my character, Reggie Connors, from "The Fool's Trap" back to the boys' world. You don't need to have read that one first to get this one, but it gives you more background on Reggie than this story and fills you in to some things referenced in this story.***

_And of course - **Disclaimer**: I do not own anything associated with Supernatural (which is a bummer, really...) except for the creations of Reggie and Frank Connors and the liberty I took on the origins of my "freak of the week" in this story. Thanks!_

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**Prologue**

It had been a long night and all Robbie Marsten wanted to do was get home and go to bed. He turned his beat up pick-up truck onto Highway 81 and flicked on his high beams. The road was lined on either side with nothing but black forest, stretching for almost twenty miles before even the first house became visible from the long winding blacktop. He was risking it with the high beams, knowing that if a deer decided to bound across the road, it would be struck dumb by the bright headlights and freeze in his way. But Robbie didn't trust his tired eyes without them.

A light drizzle had begun to fall as he passed mile marker three and he started the windshield wipers, cursing under his breath at the added nuisance. Robbie noticed a shape in the distance on the side of the road and he slowed, thinking of the deer again. He quickly realized that it was a car and had already decided that he was just going to drive right past whoever it was stranded on the side as if he didn't see them when the driver's side door opened and a dark shape climbed out.

As he got closer, the shape began waving its arms at him and both the car and figure were finally cast in the light from his headlights. The car was a silver Mercedes and looked almost brand new. The driver was a tall, slender woman with blonde hair so light that it almost matched the long white coat she was wearing. She struggled against the howling wind that whipped around her, pulling her hair from her face while clenching the coat closed.

_Man is she a looker_, Robbie thought as he switched off his high beams and eased onto the shoulder in front of the stranded car. He watched the woman in his rearview mirror for a moment as she waited for him to get out of his truck.

Even as the rain soaked her, the woman smiled at him gratefully as Robbie ambled over to her. "What seems to be the problem, m'am?" Robbie asked, his Texas drawl thick even after the twelve years he'd been living in Bridgewater, South Dakota.

"I was just driving along and suddenly it made this clanking noise and just died," she stated as she motioned towards her car. "I can't seem to get a signal to call for AAA on my cell phone."

"You won't get much of a signal on this road. Not with all the woods," Robbie explained, nodding at the trees.

"I'm so glad you came along. I've been sitting here for almost three hours and you're the first car I've seen."

"Not too many people are out this late," Robbie replied. "I don't know that much about cars, but I'm willing to take a look for ya. Just hop in and pop the hood for me." She nodded at him and hurried back to the driver's side door. Robbie heard the familiar metallic pop as the hood released and he pulled it open. He heard the woman get out of the car, her heels clacking on the blacktop as she came around the side of the car to stand beside him.

"I really appreciate you stopping," she said gratefully.

"My pleasure," Robbie said, shrugging. "After all, it _**is**_ the neighborly thing to do." Robbie grinned at her and she grinned back. _Good thing she can't read minds_, he thought to himself. He stared at the jumble of wires and metal, barely able to discern anything properly in the dark. "I don't suppose you have a flashlight or somethin'?" he asked, looking up at her and noticing for the first time the bright blue color of her eyes.

"No, sorry. I would have never thought to keep a flashlight in the car." She grinned at him again. This time, the sight gave Robbie shivers.

"I-I think I have one in my truck in the glove box. I'll go-go get it," he stammered.

"No, allow me to," the woman said and started towards his truck before Robbie could object.

"Get a grip," he snapped at himself under his breath and turned back to the mechanical mess before him. Robbie heard the door squeak as she opened the passenger side door and he waited, his hands braced on the cool metal above the grill. "It should be just under the maps," he called.

He heard the door slam shut and waited to hear the sound of the woman's heels on the pavement as she returned. Instead there was only silence. Robbie turned and jerked backwards, falling hard against the Mercedes. The woman stood in front of him, looking at him with a twisted smile stretched across her once beautiful face.

"Jeez, you scared me," Robbie panted, clutching at his chest as his heart thudded heavily against his ribs.

"I know," she hissed. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. Robbie stood frozen, confused by her strange behavior. "I can't smell you properly if you aren't scared." She opened her eyes and Robbie gasped. The bright blue was gone, replaced by a deep crimson red.

"Who-who are you?" Robbie stuttered.

"Well, my _**name**_ is Cassandra Levy, but I'm guessing that who I am is not the question you meant." Her left hand whipped out in a movement so fast, Robbie didn't even see it, and she caressed his cheek lovingly. Robbie stared at her, rooted in place as he watched Cassandra lick her lips. "You do smell so nice," she hissed again. She raised her right hand as rapidly as before, her movements nothing but a blur, and blew what appeared to be dust into Robbie's face.

He had just enough time to register a mixture of faint floral and bitter smells mingled with what his groggy brain could only identify as rotten wood before the world around him went completely dark. Robbie felt his body crumble beneath him; the cold, wet blacktop cool against his back even through his heavy flannel jacket. Robbie Marsten's last conscious thought was that he should have just kept right on driving.

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_***Sept. 24, 2010 - I wanted to add a little note to the end of this first chapter after looking at some of the other fan fic on here and seeing that my stories run a good deal longer than most. I wrote both "The Fool's Trap" and "On The Menu" as tie-in novels. They are meant to be extremely long because, if printed they would be like the other television series tie-ins that are out there (if you aren't familiar with any of the published Supernatural novels, I recommend you pick one or two up - great reads when you're jonesing for something new during either the summer or holiday breaks!) I am an aspiring writer and these stories were my first official foray into novel length work. I hope the length won't scare too many people off because I have really put my heart and soul into these stories and want people to enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 1

**One**

If there was one thing Dean Winchester hated most, it was waiting. Waiting around for stuff to happen, for the battle between good and evil to rear its ugly head and give him something to fight, maim, or kill. The waiting was the bane of his existence.

Dean stood up and began pacing the small motel room he and his brother, Sam, were currently staying in, barely noticing the tacky green wallpaper covered with frogs on lily pads anymore. The door, painted a muted shade of mint green in what could only have been the owner's demented attempt to blend with the walls, opened and Dean looked up to see Sam walk in carrying a large brown paper bag.

"Finally," Dean exclaimed, yanking the bag from Sam's grasp.

"Jeez, sorry, but I had to go to three different restaurants to find one that was actually still serving apple pie," Sam snapped. He plopped down onto the end of his unmade bed and stared at his brother as Dean began pulling food from the bag.

"You did get the pie, though, right?"

"Yes, Dean. It's in the bottom. I watched the lady put it in the bag." Sam rolled his eyes as Dean pulled a small Styrofoam container out and opened it, a smile spreading wide across his face.

"Yum!" Dean plopped down into one of the two chairs set around the small dining table, both of which were also covered in some form of lily pad motif, and lifted one of the wrapped sandwiches from the pile he had made in his haste to find the pie. He unwrapped it to reveal the bacon cheeseburger he'd ordered.

"Hello sweetheart," Dean cooed before taking a big bite.

He closed his eyes as he chewed slowly, a look of ecstasy on his face. Sam groaned in disgust and flopped onto his back, the bed springs groaning at him as he shut his eyes. Everything was quiet except for the occasional sounds of Dean's loud chewing.

After a few minutes, Sam opened his eyes and turned his head to look at his brother. He watched as Dean shoved several french fries into his mouth and followed it with a few gulps of beer from the six pack Sam had also purchased.

"Dude, you eat like a pig, you know that?" Sam stated, frowning at Dean. He pushed himself back up and ran his hand through his long, shaggy brown hair.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Dean asked through a mouthful of food.

Sam shook his head. "I don't think my stomach could handle food right now. Not after having watched you eat, anyway," Sam said.

He glanced around the room, looking for the familiar black bag he carried his laptop in. He spotted it leaning against the side of the room's single dresser, also painted mint green. Sam picked up the case and carried it back to his bed, sliding until his back was resting against the lily pad-shaped headboard. He scrunched one of the limp motel pillows behind him in an effort to get comfortable as he waited for the computer to boot up.

Dean continued to chomp away happily as he watched Sam on his laptop. After a few minutes, his stomach pleasantly full, he burped loudly and finished off his second beer.

"Find anything promising?" Dean asked as he opened two more bottles and got up from the table, strolling over to Sam. Dean handed one of the beers to Sam, who took it absently as he continued to stare at his computer. Dean sat down on his own bed as he waited for Sam to respond.

"So far I've found a series of reports about missing pets in a town just outside Raleigh, North Carolina and an article in a newspaper in Cleveland, Ohio about a man who says he was abducted by aliens." He glanced up at Dean and saw his brother's raised eyebrows. "Don't even think about it. The Ohio guy's a nutcase.

"According to the article, a Mr. Leonard Halstrom, was walking home from his weekly "chess match"," Sam said, using air quotes, "when he was overcome by a bright, white light and the strong sense to go to sleep. Mr. Halstrom claims that when he woke up, in his own bed the next morning, he had a strange cut behind his left ear and no memory of how he actually got home." Sam sighed and turned the computer so Dean could see the picture on the screen. "It sounds more like he was abducted by Jose Cuervo than E. T."

"Okay, so maybe this Lenny guy isn't our kind of thing," Dean grumbled, sipping his beer and briefly glancing around the room, before turning back to Sam. "What about the missing pets? That could be something."

Sam shook his head. "Sounds more like a problem with the wildlife. Some big animal, maybe a cougar, whose food source has become depleted is now munching on Fluffy and Rover." Sam watched as a cloud fell over his brother's face and sighed. "I'll keep looking," he muttered and went back to his search.

Dean nodded and grabbed the remote to the television set perched precariously on the dresser top. He began flipping through the channels, not really in the mood to watch. He needed to keep his mind occupied, to keep busy so that it didn't wander back over the last several weeks. Dean stopped for a brief moment on one of the adult movie channels and heard Sam groan again.

"Please, spare me the horror," he snapped.

"I wasn't going to order anything," Dean grumbled, fighting the sly grin that tugged at his lips. He glanced at Sam, who was glaring at him with a look of disbelief on his face. "I just stopped for a second. Look," he motioned as he flipped the channel, "it's off." Sam glared at him for a few seconds longer, then returned to his laptop.

Dean went back to channel surfing, lounging on his stomach with a pillow stuffed under his chin. They remained quiet for a long time, the only noises were from the hockey game Dean had settled on and Sam's typing as he surfed the internet looking for their next job.

Dean was just dozing off when he recognized the ring tone of Sam's cell phone. His eyes flashed open and he turned to watch as his brother scrambled off the bed to where he had tossed his jacket, stumbling on stiff legs, and tried to yank the phone from a pocket of his jacket.

"Hello?" Sam paused and Dean waited, hoping the call wasn't from Ruby, the demon who had been helping Sam develop the powers he had gotten from the yellow-eyed demon, Azazel, while Dean was in hell. He watched tensely, waiting for that familiar look of secrecy to creep over Sam's face, as the woman whispered whatever nonsense she could into his brother's ear to get Sam to go running out the door to meet her. "Hey Bobby!"

Dean relaxed and sat up. Bobby Singer, a hunter and basically a surrogate father to them both, was someone Dean didn't mind hearing from.

"What's up?" Sam nodded and held up his hand as Dean opened his mouth to speak. "Hold on. Let me put you on speaker so Dean can hear too." Sam placed the phone on the table and nodded at Dean, who had gotten up from his bed.

"Hey Bobby," Dean stated as he took the seat opposite Sam at the table.

"Hi-ya Dean. I was just tellin' Sam that I have a job possibility."

"Really? Excellent! What do you have?"

"I actually got the info off another hunter," Bobby said, pausing. Sam shot Dean a curious look. Both men were thinking about the same person: Reggie Connors.

Reggie was a female hunter they had met a couple of months back while in Philadelphia on a job. They had thought the job was just the usual demon killings, but were stumped by the evidence left behind. Bobby had directed them to Reggie, and her home in Maryland, because she was able to identify the strange pentagram Sam and Dean had found at several of the murders as part of a fake ritual known as the Fool's Ritual. It was a trap set by Lilith, the demon who was responsible for sending Dean to hell the previous year and who was currently trying to open sixty-six seals to raise Lucifer from hell.

Reggie helped them fight off a group of demons that Lilith had sent to kill them while they were at her house. She had lost her uncle, Frank Connors, in the battle. Frank had been a hunter in his prime before he was struck with Alzheimer's, and Reggie had been stuck taking care of her last living family member. Dean still carried the weight of Frank's death, feeling responsible for bringing his and Sam's problems down on Reggie and her family. She didn't hold him responsible, and had even gotten angry with him when he tried to take the blame, but that still didn't relieve Dean's guilt.

Dean swallowed back the question he wanted to ask and instead asked the one he knew both Sam and Bobby were expecting from him. "What's the job?"

"Five people have gone missin' in a town called Bridgewater, South Dakota, just over fifty miles from here. Local police originally thought it was just the usual - a man leaves his wife and a teenage runaway-, but now they're not so sure. Reggie did some diggin' before she left and found that there have been a string of disappearances like this every seven years 'cross the States at least as far back as the 1930's. The cycle starts and for five weeks people vanish into thin air. The number of victims is always the same - sixteen people of various ages, sex, and races."

"Do you think it might be vampires?" Sam asked as he retrieved his laptop and started pulling up the local newspaper for Bridgewater.

"It's too ritualistic to be vampires. Reggie thought it might be cannibals, like that family ya stumbled on in Minnesota, but I ain't so sure. Those freaks were huntin' people and takin' them as they needed to, not like this. A specific amount of people disappear durin' a specific period of time? Sounds like somethin' much more sinister." Bobby sighed heavily. "That ain't the only reason I called though. I haven't heard from Reggie in a few days and, although that's not unusual, I'm gettin' kinda worried."

"Bobby, are you saying Reggie is already on this hunt?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam who had the same concerned look on his face. "Alone?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm sayin'. She stuck around for a while after you boys left, but only long enough for her body to mostly heal up. Reggie's one of the best hunters her age that I know, aside from you two, so I had no reason to worry about her until now.

"The last message I got from her was four days ago. Said she was still in Bridgewater and that she had made a major breakthrough on identifyin' what it was that's been goin' on. Since then, nothin'."

"Maybe Reggie was wrong and just hasn't called you again because she's still looking," Sam offered reluctantly. His forehead was scrunched in a look Dean recognized all too well, showing his true thoughts at this unlikely theory.

"I thought about that, but I don't know. I would have expected an update, at least. I tried callin' her cell, but all I get is her voicemail. And when I called the number of the motel she was stayin' at, the clerk said that she checked out two days ago. Now, this might just be noth..."

"We're heading out now, Bobby," Dean cut in. "Sam and I will see you in a few hours."

"All right. See you boys in a bit," Bobby said and hung up. Dean began tossing clothes into his duffle bag and Sam followed suit after stuffing his laptop back into its bag. Sam continued to glance at his brother as they packed.

"I'm sure she's fine, Dean," Sam said, standing just outside the small green bathroom, watching as Dean stuffed his toothbrush into a bag with other toiletries before tossing that, too, into his duffle bag.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Dean nodded absently as he skimmed his eyes over the bathroom, making sure he got everything he needed before flipping off the light.

* * *

They finished packing, loaded the trunk of Dean's pride and joy - his 1967 Chevy Impala - before doing a final once-over to make sure they weren't leaving anything behind. Dean shut the motel door and he and Sam climbed into the black car. The engine roared to life as Dean peeled out of the parking lot in a cloud of gravel and dust.

Sam sat quietly in the passenger seat staring out the side window, watching the trees pass by in a blur. Dean had cranked the radio up and a newer AC/DC song blasted from the speakers, the base thudding through Sam's body. There had been something between Dean and Reggie, a connection that both of them had fought during the four days they had been with her. Sam had gotten the feeling that things had developed a bit more than Dean would ever admit.

It was strange watching Dean be so protective over someone other than him and Sam stole another glance at his brother. Dean was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music, his face a mask of false calm. The song ended and the deejay cut in announcing a three minute break for commercials. Dean grunted and flipped the dial in search of some more music.

After going through several channels and finding them all in various stages of commercial breaks, Dean jammed down on a knob, turning the radio off. The silence that followed spoke volumes of what both brothers were feeling.

"Why the hell did she think she could work a job like this alone?" Dean suddenly snapped, slamming his hands against the steering wheel and causing Sam to jump.

"It's not like she's never worked a solo hunt before, Dean. She's been doing the job for almost as long as we have." Dean turned to look at him, his green eyes like daggers. Sam blanched and hurried to continue. "I'm sure she's fine, man. She's a good hunter."

Dean scoffed and turned his gaze back to the road ahead of them. "Yeah, but that doesn't make any of us indestructible," he muttered. Dean pressed on the gas and the speedometer's needle inched past eighty.

* * *

They pulled up in front of Bobby Singer's faded blue and white house shortly before midnight, having made the approximate six hour trip from Trenton, Missouri to Sioux Falls, South Dakota in under four. As Sam climbed from the car, the front door swung open, and Bobby stepped out onto the porch. Sam waved at the older man as he walked up the steps, Dean close behind him.

"Hey Bobby."

"You made good time," Bobby commented as he held the screen door open for them. They entered the cluttered living room, piles of books and mountains of papers scattered everywhere. Bobby motioned for them to have a seat and Dean lowered himself onto the beat up couch, navigating around a strange red box on the floor next to the only currently clear piece of furniture: the coffee table. Sam sat down beside him and leaned forward to get a better look at the box.

"Is that a hex box, Bobby?" Sam asked, squinting at the strange carvings etched into the wood. He reached his hand out to touch it and Bobby smacked it back.

"Yeah it is and don't touch it. I ain't sure what's inside is completely contained." Bobby threw a heavy black cloth over the box and picked it up, holding it as far away from his body as he could as he carried it out of the room. He came back a minute later, carrying three bottles of beer. Bobby handed one to Sam and Dean each and flopped into his usual spot, a faded grey arm chair. "Sorry about that, Sam," he stated, before taking a sip from his beer.

"Can't be too careful, I get it," Sam said, shrugging. "The cloth you used to pick it up? What was that?" Sam asked curiously.

"A blessed piece of a Tibetan monk's robe," Bobby answered nonchalantly.

Sam sipped at his beer and nodded at the man. "Where'd you get it?"

"Who cares?" Dean snapped. Bobby and Sam both turned to look at him. He sat on the edge of the couch, his bottle of beer open, but untouched, a look of agitation on his face. "Sorry," Dean mumbled when Bobby cocked an eyebrow at him.

"S'okay. I understand. I already told you I'm worried 'bout her too." Bobby reached over and pulled a folder from under a small pile of books. He handed it to Dean. "That's everything Reggie found on the cycles before she left." Dean flipped through the papers inside, skimming over the various newspaper clippings and notes in Reggie's neat handwriting.

"You said she left you a message the other day? Do you still have it?" Dean asked, handing the folder to Sam.

"I do actually." Bobby got up and strolled into the kitchen. Dean followed after him, leaving Sam to read through the contents of the folder alone in the living room.

The kitchen was just as cluttered as the living room and had the faint aroma of stale pizza hanging in the air. Dean's stomach rumbled hungrily, but he ignored it and went to stand next to Bobby, who was playing with his answering machine. After a few messages from customers about parts for their cars, Bobby finally found Reggie's message. "If it hadn't been sandwiched between two business calls, I probably would've deleted it by now," the hunter stated, before pressing play.

Reggie's soft voice floated out of the tiny speakers and Dean's stomach flip-flopped. "Hey Bobby. I'm just checking in," Reggie said. "I'm doing fine. In fact, more than fine. I think I might finally be on to what's been going on out here, but I'm not completely sure yet. As soon as I know more, you will. Hold on..."

There was some background noise which Dean couldn't identify and Reggie paused. Her voice came back sounding slightly amused.

"Sorry about that. I've gotta go, so I'll talk to you later." There was a click as she hung up and then a message about a man looking for a carburetor for his 1993 Camaro started and Bobby hit the Stop button on the machine.

"That's it. I ain't heard from her since."

"Can you play that back?" Sam asked from the doorway. "I couldn't hear the whole thing from the living room." Bobby played the message again while Dean played with the lid of his bottle, spinning it on the countertop. "Sounds like someone was talking to her, didn't it?" Sam asked, pushing the message again and fast forwarding to the end.

"Maybe," Bobby hesitated. He shrugged and tossed his empty beer bottle into the garbage can beside Sam. "Maybe I'm just bein' paranoid. Reggie could've just finished up in Bridgewater and moved on."

"And didn't call?" Dean asked.

"She probably just forgot. It's not like she's required to keep me informed."

"But Reggie knows you're keeping an eye on her. And I don't really think she would forget to call," Sam said. He looked from Bobby to Dean and back again. "Dean and I are going to go out there and check it out."

"Maybe I should go with ya?" Bobby suggested.

"No. I think it's better you stay here, in case we need anything," Sam said, giving the man a warm half-smile. Bobby nodded, but the expression on his face said he didn't entirely agree with the idea.

"I guess we better hit the road then," Dean stated, swinging his car keys around his index finger as he leaned against the counter. He pushed himself off and clapped Bobby on the back. "We'll call you when we get into town." Sam put his beer, which was only half finished, down and led the way out of the house, back to the Impala. Bobby stood watching them as they drove off, his expression troubled.

Sam laid the folder across his legs and shone his penlight at the article on top. It was dated the week before. "It looks like Reggie faxed this last one to Bobby from the motel she was staying at. Robbie Marsten, sixty-eight, disappeared on Highway 81. His truck was left idling on the shoulder. No signs of a struggle or foul play that the police could find. He seems to have just vanished into thin air."

"People don't just vanish."

"Yeah, I know, but what else can they say?"

Sam sighed and turned off his penlight, closing the folder and setting it on the seat beside him. He turned to look out his window, the trees barely visible under the inky, starless sky. Sam's eyes began to grow heavy and he closed them, letting the steady rumble of the engine lull him to sleep.

* * *

It felt like he had barely dozed off when Dean was shaking him awake. "We're here," Dean grumbled. Sam blinked his eyes, trying to clear the sleep from them as he felt Dean get out of the car, the driver's side door creaking loudly before Dean slammed it shut.

It had begun to rain lightly, a steady drizzle pinging against the windshield. Sam pulled the collar of his jacket up against his neck as he got out and headed around to the trunk. Dean was already inside the motel office, getting them a room.

Sam pulled open the trunk and lifted the bottom up to reveal the hidden compartment beneath which they stored the various weapons and items they used to hunt. Not really sure what they may need, he grabbed a duffle bag and just started loading things inside it. Sam was just wedging one of the sawed-off shotguns into the bag when Dean came around the side of the car, a motel key with a teepee hanging from it, in his hand.

"I paid for the room for a week. Let's hope we won't have to be here that long," Dean grimaced. They made their way to the room and opened the door. The inside was just what they had grown to expect from the out-of-the-way, fleabag motels they tended to stay in.

The entire interior was done in Native American themes; the walls were covered with a tacky beige wallpaper that was dotted with pictures of Indians dancing around bonfires and standing next to teepees. The coverlets on the two beds each had a large picture of an Indian riding a wild bronco, holding on for dear life as the animal tried to buck the brave off.

They barely paused as they entered the room and Sam dropped the heavy weapons bag onto the small beige dining table by the window. Dean yanked the curtains, which were also covered by pictures similar to the wallpaper, closed and dropped his duffle bag onto the bed closest to the door, as usual.

"We should probably just try and get some rest tonight," Dean said, yawning loudly as he shrugged out of his brown leather jacket.

Sam nodded, yawning as well, and dropped onto the empty bed. He kicked off his shoes and slid back on the bed, his eyes already closing as he yanked the pillows from under the coverlet and bunched them under his head. He heard Dean moving around the room and saw the bathroom light go on through his eyelids before exhaustion completely overtook him and he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**Two**

The sound of the shower running woke Dean from a really good dream. He had been surrounded by beautiful women, all clad in tiny bikinis, carrying serving trays loaded with food. One of the women, a tall, leggy redhead, was just about to start feeding him grapes when he was ripped away by the whine of water being pulled through the rusty pipes.

"Dammit," Dean muttered as he rolled onto his back and scrubbed his hands across his face.

Pleasant dreams were rare for him and he had really been enjoying that particular one. He pushed himself up, tossing aside the bunched covers, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The water shut off and Dean yawned as he stretched and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kink in the muscles between them. Something about the dream had begun to bug Dean and he was having some trouble placing it.

A few minutes later, Sam came out of the bathroom in a wave of steam and heat and grinned at his brother. "Hey, you're up!"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Dean grumbled. Sam smirked and tossed his towel back into the bathroom. He sat down and began putting on a pair of brown boots. Dean got up and started gathering some clothes, getting ready to take his own shower.

"That must have been one hell of a dream you were having," Sam said, the smirk spreading wider. Dean froze with a pair of jeans halfway out of his bag. He could hear the amused tone in Sam's voice and he didn't like it. "You were moaning and I think even smacking your lips a little bit." Dean glared at his brother, watching as Sam's attempt at keeping his face serious cracked and he began to laugh.

"Shut up," Dean growled, hurrying into the bathroom as Sam's laughter grew louder. He slammed the door behind him, irritated.

The shower felt wonderful as the hot water helped to relax his tired muscles and Dean almost wished he never had to get out. But when he finished showering, he toweled dry and dressed quickly; the bathroom, having become filled with steam and heat, made the small space stuffy and uncomfortable. It gave Dean the overwhelming desire to get out as soon as possible.

Dean emerged to find Sam sitting at the small dining table, his laptop open in front of him. Sam looked up as Dean strolled over and grinned at his brother. Dean gave him a warning look, waiting for whatever smart ass remark he might make, but Sam just went back to staring at the computer with the grin plastered on his face.

"What are you looking for?" Dean asked as he sat down on the end of his bed so he could put on his boots.

"Well, I was trying to pull up a listing for the local library, but I can't get any internet connection," Sam said. He pulled out his cell phone and held it in the air. "No service! That's probably why Bobby kept getting Reggie's voicemail."

Dean pulled his own cell phone from his coat pocket and flipped it open. "Well, that's just freakin' fantastic," he snapped, flipping it closed again. "I didn't realize we had traveled to the end of the civilized world."

"Well, it makes sense considering how dense the woods are around here. Any towers that may be in the area can't put out a strong enough signal." Sam sighed and got up, walking over to the motel room's phone. "I'm going to call Bobby and give him a heads-up. Tell him we might be unreachable for awhile." He punched in the number and sat down on the side of his bed.

It was then that Dean realized what was so strange about the dream he had been having. The redhead that had been about to feed him the luscious green grapes had reminded him of Reggie. Dean sat only half listening to Sam explain to Bobby about the phones, his mind wandering to the last time he had seen Reggie. Their goodbye had been awkward, but not in an unpleasant way; neither one had really known what to say to the other. Not after the several intense days they had spent getting to know each other while battling for their lives.

Reggie had been injured and her right arm in a sling, the result of an attack by one of the demons, sent by Lilith, that were hunting them for a change. The woman was beautiful, funny, stubborn, and fierce; just the type of girl Dean tried to avoid for obvious reasons. Their life wasn't conducive to settling down.

All you had to do was take a look at how his own family had ended up. His mother Mary, who Dean had just recently found out was a retired hunter, was dead. His father John, a hunter bent on vengeance, was dead. Even Sam and Dean had each died at least once. Reggie was the kind of girl that made Dean start to think about life differently and he cursed fate for that.

It was ironic, now that Dean thought about it, that Reggie reminded him of the woman his mother had been when he'd met Mary in the past. Castiel, the angel that had pulled Dean from the pit, had sent him back in time to the night his mother made the deal with the Yellow-eyed demon who would kill her many years later.

Dean had thought it was to stop the demon, but, in fact, the angels had hoped to find out why Azazel had so badly wanted Mary to make the deal. They had used Dean to find out what plans the demon had for Sam and all the children like him; the ones the demon changed on the night they turned six-months old when he came to their rooms to bleed into their mouths.

That trip through time was a revelation to Dean, finding out that he came from a family of hunters. That the life that had been thrust upon him at such an early age, was actually his birthright in a way. His mother had been young, intelligent, hopeful, and beautiful. She had been feisty and determined, committed to her family. But Dean had been unable to change the past and the future he returned to seemed even colder with his newfound knowledge.

"We'll call you if we find anything," Sam was saying as Dean pulled himself from his thoughts. He stood up and pulled on his jacket, fishing out his car keys as Sam hung up the phone.

"Where to first?" Dean asked, twirling the key around his finger as he watched Sam put on his coat.

"I was thinking we could head down Highway 81. Check out where the last victim disappeared from. Then maybe head farther into town and ask around, see if anyone remembers seeing Reggie," Sam suggested. Dean nodded and they headed out the door in silence.

Sam knew he had to speak up, had to point out the obvious. He needed to suggest the best way they should start their search for Reggie, but he didn't want to say it much less think it himself. He took a deep breath as they walked to the Impala and opened his mouth.

"Don't even say it, Sammy," Dean snapped as he climbed in behind the wheel.

"What?" Sam asked, not entirely surprised his brother had known what was coming.

"I know what you're thinking and, even though you're right, I don't want to hear it."

"It just makes sense, Dean. When dad went missing, we checked all the local hospitals and morgues for anyone fitting his description," Sam said, easing into the passenger seat just as Dean started the car.

"I know, and like I told you then, we won't find anything. If something did happen, and that's a big if, it's more likely that it was something supernatural. You know as well as I do that that complicates matters. Especially if it has to do with whatever is currently going on in this town." Dean sped down the empty road, blowing through a Stop sign.

"_**Do**_ you think that whatever's been taking all these people got to Reggie?" Sam shuddered at the thought.

"No, I don't," Dean replied shortly.

"Dean?"

Dean sighed and slowed the car down as they reached the road where Robbie Marsten's truck had been found. "Okay, maybe I _**am**_ considering it a possibility." He pulled onto the shoulder and shut the engine off. "But until we know for sure, I'm going with the assumption that Reggie's all right."

Dean pushed open his door and got out. Sam followed after him and they began walking up the deserted highway. "Where exactly did the newspaper say they found his truck?" Dean asked, looking up and down the deserted highway.

"Just past mile marker three," Sam said pointing ahead of them to where a small stick could be seen jutting from the ground. "The truck was still on, like he'd pulled over for something."

"Maybe he needed to take a leak?" Dean suggested.

Sam rolled his eyes at the back of Dean's head. "Or maybe he stopped to help someone?"

"Okay so let's say he _**was**_ playing Helpful Harry and pulled over because he saw someone stranded on the side of the road. What happened to the stranded motorist?" Dean glanced around, as if looking for any evidence to support this theory.

"Maybe they were taken too?" Sam suggested.

"Right, okay. But then the cops would have found two cars, not just Marsten's." Dean shook his head. "It doesn't add up. Either he was all alone out here or..."

"Or there was a witness to his abduction," Sam finished. He turned to look down the highway, listening to the sounds of birds and other wildlife just out of sight in the trees around them. "We should head into town and ask around."

Dean nodded in agreement and headed back to the Impala.

* * *

"Well, that was useful," Dean snapped as they climbed back into the Impala. He slammed the door closed and turned to face Sam. "Three hours talking to Jed and Ellie May Clampett and we've got bupkiss!"

"Not necessarily, Dean. I mean, we know that Reggie was here in town because people remember seeing her. And we know a little more about Robbie Marsten. He was single, lived alone, and he drove down Highway 81 at around the same time every night. Maybe the stranded motorist was just a ruse, a trap set specifically for him?" Sam reasoned as he went over his notepad.

"_**You**_ got all that. I got an offer to buy a sheep farm from Gomer Pyle and propositioned by two seventy year-old women with three teeth between them." Sam snorted and started to laugh. "It isn't funny," Dean snapped, fighting to keep the smile from his own lips. Sam struggled to get his laughter under control as Dean pulled out onto the road again.

"We should head over to the library, see if we can find anything in the archives," Sam said, still chuckling lightly, as they stopped at a red light.

"I want to get something to eat first. I'm starving." Dean's stomach began to growl loudly as if to further emphasize his statement. They pulled into the parking lot of a small diner and got out.

A wave of delicious aromas instantly hit them as Sam held the door to the diner open for his brother. "I sure hope the food tastes as good as it smells," Dean muttered as a small, squat woman dressed in a white apron approached them. Her black hair was streaked with gray and pulled back into a severe bun on the top of her head. Her dark brown eyes were red and weary looking.

"How many?" she asked in an uninterested, nasally voice.

"Just the two of us," Sam said and they followed behind the waitress as she led them to a booth against the large front window. Sam smiled weakly at her as he slid across the worn red vinyl seat into the booth.

"You boys want some coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," Sam said. She turned and walked away without waiting for Dean.

"Me too, please," Dean added to her retreating back.

Sam handed him a menu, which was stained and sticky in spots, and Dean began to peruse it. The waitress came back, plopped the coffees in front of them, and tapped the end of her pencil on the pad she was holding. Dean glanced at Sam and then at her.

"We could actually use a few more minutes, thanks," Sam said. The waitress glared at them for a moment, then strolled away, heading over to the only other currently occupied table.

"Well isn't she a peach," Dean grumbled, dropping the menu back on the table and pulling his cup of coffee in front of him. He picked it up and took a hesitant sip. "Not too bad," he commented before taking another, more generous sip.

Sam proceeded to empty several creamers into his cup, which garnered him a disgruntled look from Dean, before he started stirring in some sugar. The waitress came back a few minutes later to take their order and they both ordered pancakes and bacon, deciding to stick with something basic and easy.

It didn't take long for their food to cook and when the waitress dropped it in front of them ten minutes later, they dug in hungrily, surprised to find the food exceptionally good. When they had finished eating and paid the bill, they headed back outside to the Impala.

"So which way is the library?" Dean asked as he slid into the car.

"I think it's over that way," Sam said, pointing down a small street just off the main road through town.

"You think? You mean you don't have some kind of nerd radar that allows you to zero in on places like that?"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam snapped as he playfully shoved his brother. Dean chuckled and drove in the direction Sam had indicated.

They spent several more long hours inside the library while Sam scrolled through the archived newspapers looking for similar disappearances. Finally, Sam yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Looks like this is the first time anything like this has happened in Bridgewater," Sam stated as he pushed himself away from the computer desk. He stood up and his knees cracked loudly, his long legs stiff from having sat for so long under the low desk.

"From the stuff in Reggie's folder, it seems the anomaly only happens in small, semi-isolated towns. Considering that most of middle America is made up of them, I can buy that," Dean said, trying to stifle his own yawn.

"There's really nothing else we need here," Sam said, shrugging. "We should head back outside, maybe see if we can find someone else that remembers seeing Reggie around town."

Dean got up and stretched his arms behind his back, rolling his head around in an attempt to loosen the tightness from his neck. He pulled on his leather jacket, which had been hanging on the back of the faded blue office chair he'd been sitting in, and led the way back outside. The sun had already begun to set, the sky streaked with an array of oranges and pinks. Up and down the sidewalks, streetlamps flickered on.

They were just driving past a small cluster of buildings when Dean slammed on the brakes, unexpectedly thrusting Sam forward in his seat. "What the..." Sam started as he turned to glare at his brother, angrily pushing his brown hair off his face. He realized immediately why Dean had braked so suddenly and groaned.

At the corner of the intersection they were just about to cross stood what had to be the only bar in town. A large fluorescent sign flashed Madison's Bar at them over a parking lot that was packed with an array of vehicles. Several people were either standing around or leaning against the cars and trucks in the lot, talking and smoking while laughter carried out of the frequently opening door.

"I think we've done enough research for today, don't you?" Dean said, turning to beam at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes but didn't answer. He already knew this was one argument he would never win.

Dean drove into the parking lot and, after circling it for several minutes, pulled into the spot left empty by a departing Ford truck. Rock music floated out to them as they made their way across the lot, narrowly avoiding being run over by a group of burly men riding motorcycles. Dean flipped a finger at the bikers' retreating backs and then joined Sam as he jogged up the stone steps and stepped into the bar.

They were hit with a wave of heat and the smell of sawdust, beer, and sweat as they entered the crowded room buzzing with dozens of people. In the corner, set up on a small stage, was a live band who were currently attempting a rendition of Guns-N-Roses' "Sweet Child of Mine" without much success.

The actual bar, which was shaped in a large U, sat in the middle, surrounded by people either sitting on stools or packed between them. There were several pool tables set up to the left and Sam could hear pinball machines somewhere nearby as he followed Dean to the bar. Dean squeezed in beside a busty bleach-blonde woman who was talking to a heavy set man in ripped jeans and a leather vest which showed off the man's massive, tattoo-covered arms.

The bartender, a guy about Sam's age with short, spiky blonde hair, held up his finger when Dean waved at him. "Be with you in a minute," he called as he expertly poured several drinks at once.

Dean tapped the countertop with his finger and turned to smile at the busty blonde who was now checking him out. He raised his eyebrow and winked at her. She giggled, which got the attention of her date, who had been talking to another biker sitting next to him. Sam had to laugh at the look on his brother's face when the guy in the vest nodded at him and threw his arm over the blonde's shoulders.

Finally, the bartender made it to their end of the bar and Dean was able to order them two beers. He paid the guy, who disappeared as soon as he got their money, and handed Sam his beer. Sam took a sip and scanned the crowd, his height a clear advantage over Dean's.

"So, see any suckers?" Dean asked, eyeing the pool tables. Sam rolled his eyes and looked down at his brother.

"I see a lot of people, Dean, but I can't really tell who's gullible enough to fall for your con just by looking at them. Only you have that Jedi mind trick." Sam went back to watching the crowd of people.

"This band sucks," Dean yelled just as the song ended. His voice barely made an echo, though, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that not many people, other than the few directly around them, had actually heard his brother. The trio on stage started another song which Sam had trouble recognizing.

"What is this?" he yelled to Dean. Sam caught the appalled look on Dean's face before he heard his brother answer.

"I think it's supposed to be Rush's "Working Man"," Dean said, rolling his eyes as the lead singer's voice went off key.

Sam had to admit Dean was right about the band. Even he could tell the song sounded awful. A commotion to their right caught Sam's attention then and he turned to see a large group of guys, all appearing to be around Dean's age, cheering loudly at something. He glanced at Dean and saw that his brother had noticed the commotion too.

"Wanna go check it out?" Sam asked and Dean nodded in agreement. They weaved through the people dancing to the music and made their way over. As they got closer, Sam realized the men were surrounding a small area which was mostly cleared of furniture, with only a few tables scattered about. Dartboards had, instead, been fixed to the wall and a guy dressed in a khaki colored polo shirt stood in the center of the space, looking nervous and a bit agitated. He tossed a dart, its tail a bright blue, at the dartboard, and actually managed to get it inside the circle just outside the bull's-eye.

The crowd of men cheered and the guy grinned more confidently as he prepared to throw his next dart. A chant raced through the group and the man tossed the dart, this time, barely making it on the board. The sad attempt was met by boos, which made the man's already pink face turn a dark shade of puce.

From within the crowd, a female voice called for order. "He's still got one more turn, boys! Give the man some room." The guy glanced angrily behind him, apparently not enthused to be defended by a woman, and tossed his third dart. It soared through the air and struck the center of the board.

"Bull's-eye!" several of the drunk men in the group yelled at once. A loud cheer went through the circle again.

"Very good, very good," the female voice cried. "You've only got six points left. I think I might be in a little trouble."

A rumble of laughter followed this and Sam strained to get a glimpse of the woman. Unfortunately, at that exact moment, one of the men in front of him chose to turn around and stepped right into Sam. Sam stumbled backwards and felt Dean's hand grasp his elbow to help steady him.

"Watch it bean pole," the man grumbled as he continued to make his way to the bar.

There was a groan as a dart, one with a ghastly red tail, landed in the center of the dartboard, a solid bull's-eye. Sam watched as two more darts, in quick succession, sailed through the air and into the dartboard, all three red-tailed darts scoring a bull's-eye. Sam looked over at Dean and saw that his brother looked just as impressed.

"And that would be game," the woman called and drew Sam's attention back to the circle of grumbling and booing men. "I guess you gotta pay up." The khaki guy stepped forward and slammed several bills onto an empty table, before pushing his way through the crowd.

"Stupid..." he mumbled as he shoved past Dean. Sam noticed that Dean's expression had quickly turned devilish. Sam could guess what was running through Dean's mind; this woman offered him a challenge.

"Any other takers?" the woman's voice called over the crowd and Dean took a confident step forward.


	4. Chapter 3

**Three**

"I'll play ya," Dean called over the noise. A few people turned around to look at him and he smiled arrogantly back at them.

It was then that Sam finally got a look at the woman as she stepped out from behind a tall black man dressed in a dark blue cotton shirt. She had reddish-brown hair which was pulled into a ponytail and wore a fitted dark green tank top which showed off a small tattoo on her shoulder that Sam immediately recognized. He tried to grab Dean's arm, but missed, his fingers trailing over the soft leather as his brother moved through the crowd.

"How much are you..." Dean's voice trailed off as he came face to face with the woman.

"Hello Dean," Reggie said. Sam pushed his way to the front of the group, coming out beside Dean, who was frozen to the spot. "Hey there, Sam."

"Reggie," Sam stuttered out his greeting, still in shock. Dean was gaping at the woman when she smacked him on the shoulder.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked, clearly surprised to see them. She walked over to one of the empty tables and grabbed a bottle of beer, taking a swig.

"Same reason you are," Dean said, finally finding his voice again.

"Bobby sent you, didn't he?" Reggie slammed her beer onto the table which caused the other bottles to shake, a few clattering together.

"Yes, Bobby sent us," Dean snapped. "When he hadn't heard from you in a while he got a little worried."

Reggie rolled her eyes. "Bobby worries too much. I'm fine, as you can see, and I was going to call him when I finished up here," Reggie said. "He shouldn't have called you guys," she added, absentmindedly.

Sam noticed that Reggie was looking past them. He followed her gaze to the bar where a stunningly beautiful blonde woman wearing a tight, light blue dress, was standing. She was looking around the bar, as if searching for someone. He heard Reggie mumble something that sounded like "dammit Bobby" and pushed her way through the crowd towards the woman.

"Where the hell is she going?" Dean snapped as he turned to follow after her. Sam grabbed his arm, holding him in place as he watched Reggie greet the blonde and motion towards the dart area. The blonde nodded and followed Reggie back over.

Something about the expression on Reggie's face made Sam feel suddenly uneasy. But, by the time she had pushed her way back through the crowd of men, the look was gone and she was smiling.

"I'm glad you decided to come out after all," Reggie was saying as she stopped in front of Sam and Dean. The blonde smiled at them kindly and Sam smiled back. "Adrianne, this is Sam Kelton and Dean Bradford. Sam, Dean, this is Adrianne Monroe."

"I hope you weren't taking all of these poor guys' money, Reggie," Adrianne said, a soft southern drawl hinted in her voice.

Sam smiled wider and shook his head. "She was just about to play my partner, as a matter of fact."

Adrianne giggled at him and nodded. "Sounds like I'm just in time to watch the massacre then."

Sam heard Dean grumble something that he couldn't make out and he turned to look at his brother. Dean wore a defeated expression as he looked from Adrianne, who was staring at Sam, to Sam. He growled in frustration and yanked off his jacket.

"Let's see what you got," Dean snapped at Reggie as he grabbed the blue-tailed darts off the nearest table. "Ladies first."

Reggie chuckled and headed to the dart board, grabbing her darts and returning to where Dean was standing. She threw her first dart and, just as before, expertly scored a bull's-eye. Adrianne took a small step forward, her arm brushing against Sam's, and leaned towards him.

"She's got to be the best dart player I have ever met. I kind of feel bad for your partner," she said into his ear.

"Oh, he can hold his own, don't worry," Sam replied. He turned back to see Reggie pulling her darts out of the board. Sam was shocked to see that only two had actually made the bull's-eye. Reggie strolled back to where Dean was waiting and shrugged at Sam and Adrianne.

Dean smiled and pushed up the sleeves of his gray shirt. He threw his first and second dart quickly, both of them scoring bull's-eyes and he looked around at the cheering crowd of men that still surrounded them, beaming from ear to ear.

"You said you were partners?" Adrianne asked.

"Yeah, we're cops. Detectives, actually," Sam replied. Another cheer roared through the crowd as Dean's final dart struck another bull's-eye.

"That's cool," Adrianne said.

"How do you know Reggie?" Sam was trying his best not to stare at the woman.

"I met her when she first came to town. She stopped in where I work to apply for a job as a file clerk and we just hit it off. She's a really great girl." Sam nodded and watched as Reggie threw another bull's-eye. "Do you know her well?"

"No, we just met tonight," Sam said, that strange sense of unease he'd felt watching Reggie earlier fueling him to lie. He looked at Adrianne again, trying to place the feeling and was startled by the crystal blue color of her eyes. She blinked up at him and smiled. Sam smiled back, the sensation fading as he heard the crowd boo loudly.

All three of Reggie's darts were stuck in the center of the board. "She's certainly…talented," Sam commented, keeping up the lie, as Dean rolled his shoulders and threw his first dart. It missed the bull's-eye by only a few centimeters. Sam smiled as his brother's face flooded red in shock.

"Your partner, Dean, ain't so bad either."

Adrianne took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly, closing her eyes and tilting her head slightly to the right. Sam watched her intently, that uneasy feeling returning again. There was a loud crashing sound that caught his attention and he looked up, trying to find its source.

Two men stood by an overturned table glaring at each other. "Maybe you should go over there," Adrianne suggested. Sam looked down at her, confused. "Since you're a detective, I mean. If they call the local police, they'll close the bar for the night and I won't get to stand here talkin' to you anymore." Sam nodded, but stayed put. The last thing he and Dean needed was police attention.

"That sounds like my cue to call it a night," Reggie stated and Sam turned to see that most of the group of men were gone. In fact, most of the patrons in the bar were heading for the exits. Dean joined them as they stood watching the scene. Reggie clapped Dean on the back. "I guess we'll have to pick this up another night?"

"I guess so." He glanced at Sam and nodded towards Adrianne, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. Sam shook his head no and Dean snorted at him. "Sammy and I are gonna hit the road. Maybe we'll run into you ladies again?"

"I sure hope so," Adrianne said.

Reggie led the way outside and Sam saw Reggie's dark blue 1966 Plymouth Fury Sport parked at the edge of the lot only a few spots from the Impala. Adrianne stopped in front of a flashy, red Audi A4 Cabriolet.

"Well, this is me," she said, turning to Reggie. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Adrianne climbed into her car and pulled out of the parking lot, beeping once as she sped off down the street.

"See you tomorrow?" Dean asked, eyeing Reggie with bewilderment.

"We're supposed to have lunch together," Reggie replied nonchalantly. She pulled on her black leather jacket and started for her car.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean snapped as he walked after her.

"I was planning on going back to my motel room and going to bed."

"That's it? You're just gonna to head off without another word?"

"What would you like for me to say, Dean?"

"How about why the hell you didn't call Bobby to tell him you were okay, that you were alive? Or where the hell you've been staying for the past several days since, according to the motel clerk Bobby talked to, you checked out three days ago."

Reggie groaned and spun around, stopping a few feet from the Plymouth. "I didn't call Bobby because I didn't know I needed to. I'm a grown woman after all. I hadn't realized I was required to check in. And about the motel? I don't know what to tell you, the stupid clerk was mistaken," Reggie snapped.

Sam stood by the Impala, quietly watching the two of them argue. Dean and Reggie stood glaring at each other for a minute, then a small smile began to spread across Reggie's face.

"This seems to have become a recurring thing with us," she teased. Dean tried to remain indifferent, but it was too difficult and he shook his head as he began to laugh. Sam gaped at both of them. "Are you guys staying at The Weathered Moccasin?"

"That's its name? I thought it was called Teepee Hell," Dean said. Reggie snorted and shook her head. "Yeah, that's where we're staying," he answered.

"Then I guess I'll see you guys back there." Reggie climbed into the Plymouth and started the car, the engine roaring loudly. She rolled down the window as Dean strolled over to Sam and the Impala. "What's your room number?"

Sam fished the motel key from his pocket and looked at the wooden teepee hanging from the ring. "Room six," he called. Reggie started to laugh again. "What?"

"I'm in room five."

Sam laughed and stuck the key back into his pocket. Dean was already behind the wheel, the car running, waiting for him to get in. Reggie pulled out of the parking lot just as Sam closed his door and Dean sped off, driving after her.

* * *

They followed Reggie back to Highway 81, noting the darkness that crept out at them as they drove down the unlit road. It was eerie, made worse by the fact that they really had no idea where they were. Sam was relieved when he saw Reggie's turn signal go on and her taillights disappear a few seconds later as she turned into the motel's drive.

She was waiting for them, leaning against her car with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans, when they pulled in a minute later. Dean parked the Impala next to her and he and Sam got out. "The message you left Bobby said you'd figured out what was going on out here?" Sam asked as they walked along the narrow cement sidewalk to their rooms.

"I think maybe it would be better to talk about this inside," Reggie said, looking around cautiously. She unlocked her motel room door and flipped on the light switch. Sam and Dean followed her inside, Dean shutting the door behind him.

The wall above the small TV set was covered with copies of the same newspaper clippings Reggie had left behind at Bobby's as well as several various articles they hadn't seen. "Okay, so we're inside now. What's going on around here?" Dean asked as Sam went over to the wall.

"It's just a working theory right now. I haven't been able to gather enough information to really be sure," Reggie began. She sat down on the edge of the unmade bed and twirled her room key absentmindedly around her finger.

"What is it, Reggie," Sam asked. She began tapping her foot nervously and Sam went to sit down beside her.

"I've never encountered these things before. I mean, I've only ever read about them and heard stories from other hunters, so I can't be completely certain." Reggie stood up and began to pace. Dean sat watching her from one of the chairs at the small dining table. His calm demeanor amazed Sam. "You'll probably think I'm crazy, but what the hell, right?" she asked, turning back to look at them, her face both hopeful and hesitant.

"Just tell us what you _**think **_it is that's abducting people," Sam said.

"All right." Reggie took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. "Ghouls."

"Gazuntite."

"Oh come on, Dean," Reggie groaned. "That isn't funny."

Dean blinked at her and then looked at Sam. "You're serious?"

"Of course I'm serious! You asked me what I thought was going on out here and I'm telling you what I think," Reggie cried. She yanked the other chair away from the table and plopped down on it. Dean got up and wandered over to the cluttered wall. "I think that there are more than one and they move from town to town, collecting people."

"Collecting them for what?" Sam asked and Dean turned to glare at him.

"Food, I guess. Sixteen people go missing in a town over a specific time span and then - poof! No more abductions for another seven years."

"Don't you think that someone would notice a group of nasty, pasty-white freaks wandering around town?" Dean asked.

Reggie rolled her eyes and groaned. "Haven't you ever read the legends? They can look normal when they want to, when they need to blend in. They usually don't reveal their true form until chow time." She got up from her chair and pulled open the top drawer of the dresser. Reggie withdrew a battered looking book and Sam realized it was a journal, like the one their father used to write in.

Sam had been painstakingly transferring the data from John's journal onto his laptop, making it easier to cross-reference the information. Reggie flipped to a particular page and handed the journal to Dean. "That's what Frank documented on them." Sam saw Dean flinch at the mention of Reggie's late uncle. Reggie caught it too. "Don't do that, Dean. Do I have to keep telling you that what happened before wasn't your fault?" She squeezed his shoulder lightly.

Dean scanned the pages before handing the worn book to Sam. "So how are we supposed to find these bastards if they're basically walking around incognito all the time?"

"I have a thought about that. You see, according to what I've found on ghouls, their veil slips a little when they're hunting. They select their victims based on a pheromone that's released when a person is scared. The better the pheromone smells, the more likely you'll end up as their next meal. The most obvious sign is their eyes; they're a vicious shade of red. When they're sniffing you up, deciding if you're their very own version of filet mignon, you can see their true color." Sam handed the book back to Reggie and stood up.

"If that's right, then there is no way for us to know for sure…"

"Unless one of us is the bait," Dean cut in. Sam gawked at his brother.

"No way, Dean. That's crazy," Sam cried, shaking his head.

"Sam's right," Reggie added. "It would be way too dangerous. These things are extremely cunning as well as insanely fast and unbelievably strong. They've managed to live amongst their food source and still remain completely concealed for centuries. Your plan would just be too risky."

"Okay, so one of you come up with a better plan, then," Dean huffed. He sat back down and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I've actually been working on something," Reggie stated.

* * *

_Okay, so I know what you're thinking: Ghouls? Really? Stealing from Eric and Crew a little? Well, no actually, I didn't. I finished writing my story a little over three months before they did their episode, "Jump the Shark". As you'll see (if you continue reading) I made up my own mythology which differs a bit from that on Supernatural_. _ I rather prefer my take on the creatures (not to toot my own horn or antyhing...) and I hope you like it too._

_And, as always_, Review Review Review_. Thanks! _


	5. Chapter 4

**Four**

"I can't believe she couldn't at least tell us a little bit about this plan of hers," Dean grumbled as he tossed his jacket onto a chair in their own motel room. He flopped onto his bed and looked at Sam. "It can't possibly be better than mine."

"Yeah, because using yourself as bait to draw out and expose these things is a brilliant plan! If you want to end up dead, that is," Sam snapped. He sat down at the table and pulled out John's journal.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanna see if dad ever wrote anything about ghouls," Sam said as he began flipping through the pages covered in their father's tiny scrawl. He could feel Dean's eyes boring into him and looked up. "What?"

"You really think that's what this is?"

"It's what Reggie's thinks and I'm willing to go with that." Dean rolled his eyes and sat up. "Look, Dean, she's a damn good hunter and she's done a lot of research. She's spent a lot of time here in town in the middle of this thing. Who are we to come sweeping in and ignore all that?" Sam stared at Dean, waiting for him to say something.

Dean shrugged and got up, heading for the bathroom. "Maybe I would feel the same if I knew what the heck she was thinking in that pretty little head of hers," Dean muttered before closing the door behind him. Sam heard the faucet turn on and went back to reading their dad's journal.

* * *

When Dean emerged a few minutes later, Sam had already stowed the journal away in one of the duffle bags that littered the room and was sitting on the edge of his bed, talking on the motel phone.

"Yeah, we found her. She's a little irritated by our presence, but other than that, Reggie's good," Sam said into the phone.

"Listen, Bobby, the reason I called was because Reggie has a theory and I want to run it by you. See if you've got any more information that may help." Sam nodded at something the hunter said. "Yeah, I know. Dean told her that. She said she was going to call you when she finished the job. She didn't realize you would get so worried."

Dean stood at the doorway and listened to the one-sided conversation. "I'll tell her," Sam chuckled. He nodded at something Bobby said and continued.

"Well, she thinks it might be ghouls," Sam paused. "That's what I said, ghouls." He paused again while Bobby talked. "Really? So you think Reggie's on to something then?" Dean stepped forward and Sam held up his hand. "We're not sure since the damn things can hide in plain sight, but Reggie says she has a plan to figure out who they are." Sam laughed at something Bobby said and looked up at Dean. "Actually, that was Dean's plan." Bobby had guessed one of them would suggest the bait idea. Dean had to chuckle at how well the older man knew them.

There was a soft knock on the door and Sam hesitated, telling Bobby to hold on as Dean pulled a gun off the table and went to check it out. Dean peered through the small peephole and relaxed.

"Speak of the devil," he said as he slid the padlock back on the door and opened it for Reggie.

Reggie hesitated in the doorway, glancing at Sam before returning her gaze to Dean. "Can I talk to you for a sec?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure," Dean said, nodding. He closed the door behind him and followed her as Reggie walked to where their cars were parked. She stopped at the Plymouth and turned to Dean, an uncertain look on her face. The way she kept avoiding meeting his gaze made Dean feel uneasy.

"What's up?" he asked, wanting to break the silence.

"I want you and Sam to leave," Reggie blurted out. She stared at the ground, her hands jammed into the pockets of her jacket.

"What? Why?" Dean tried to keep the hurt from his voice. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was happy to see Reggie again.

"Because I can handle this job on my own, that's why. I don't need the two of you hanging around, messing things up." She took a deep breath and finally met Dean's questioning stare. Her face blanched and she looked away. "Don't look at me like that," she mumbled.

"Like what? Shocked? Confused?" Dean growled. "I'm not really sure how else to look, Reggie." He balled his hands into fists at his sides, the anger burning hot inside him. "Sam and I came down here because we were worried about you. We're offering to stay and help. And instead you pull me out here to tell us to get lost?"

"I…I can't explain right…" Reggie stuttered. Dean's stomach turned to stone as he thought about Reggie's words.

"Oh, wait. I get it." He ran a clammy hand over his face, fighting against the pain searing in his chest. Reggie heard the change in his voice and looked up. Instantly, her face paled and her jaw dropped open.

"No, Dean. It's not that," Reggie cried, taking a step forward, holding her hand out in front of her. Dean stepped away from her. "God, why do you always go to there?" she snapped at him, dropping her hand. Dean gaped at her, confused. "I don't _**want**_ you to go, you idiot. I _**need**_ you to go."

"You said…"

"I know what I said. That doesn't mean I actually meant it."

She sighed heavily and took another step towards him. This time Dean stayed put, still too busy trying to figure out what Reggie was saying to react anyway.

"I only said what I said to get you mad. To get you so mad that you _**would**_ leave, Dean."

"Okay, so maybe I'm missing something, but, why? Why would you…?" Relief flooded through him.

"To protect you. You and Sam. I haven't exactly given you all the details and I don't want to."

"Why not?" Dean asked, frustrated.

"Because of what you said earlier, about being bait. It's crazy how you're willing to risk yourself so impulsively. Especially with what that angel says you were brought back to do."

Reggie ran a hand through her hair and Dean realized it was no longer pulled back into a ponytail. It looked longer and, as he looked at Reggie again, he realized there were other changes to her appearance. Her emerald green eyes were tinged with red and her once peach complexion was paler; she looked exhausted. She rubbed her cheek absently, bringing attention to a faded bruise just under her left eye.

Dean's hand lifted up and he was brushing his finger over the spot before he even realized what he was doing. "Where'd you get this?" he asked.

Reggie shrugged and stepped out of his touch. "I don't remember. You get lots of bruises on the job. Don't change the subject, Dean. Are you and Sam going to leave?"

Dean took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, we're not."

"Why not?" Reggie snapped.

"Because you haven't given me a good enough reason to. And don't say because God has a plan for me. I've heard that crap before and I'm not buying it anymore. If I can stop the Apocalypse, then I will. Doing the same thing I've done my entire life - hunting and killing supernatural things."

Dean shoved his hands into his jean pockets and shivered. He realized they had been standing outside for a long time and his jacket was still hanging inside the room on the chair where he'd left it.

"Look, Reggie, I don't know what your reason for sending us packing is and if you don't want our help, then that's fine. But Sam and I are staying put until these things, ghouls or whatever, are stopped."

Dean expected Reggie to argue with him some more, but instead she shook her head and smiled.

"I figured you were going to say that."

"Then why'd…"

"Because I had to try, didn't I," she said, shrugging.

"Yeah, I guess you did," Dean said, returning her smile. He shivered again and Reggie laughed.

"Why don't you get back inside before you freeze to death," she teased. Dean nodded at her and they both walked back to their rooms. At the door to her room, they stopped, and Reggie gazed up at him for a moment.

"What?" he asked, curious by the look on her face.

Reggie shook her head. "It's nothing." Dean raised his eyebrow at her and she shrugged. "Well, I just figured it would've been a lot longer before I'd see you again, that's all." She pulled out her room key and slipped inside before Dean could reply. Just then, the door to his room opened and Sam stood in the doorway, looking awkward.

"Oh, hey," he said as he stepped out of the way so Dean could enter. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. Reggie just wanted to talk for a minute."

"You guys were gone for more than a minute," Sam said. He stared at Dean, as if looking for something, a smile tugging at his lips. His hazel eyes glinted deviously.

Dean punched him in his shoulder. "No, Sam, we were just talking. In fact, Reggie asked us to leave."

"What? Why?" Sam asked, his voice rising at this unexpected statement.

He followed Dean to his bed and waited for his brother to explain. Dean sat down on the end of his bed and kicked off his boots.

"She wouldn't really give me a complete answer, but she said it was to protect us."

"And I'm guessing you told her there was no way in hell we were leaving town?" Sam sat down on his own bed and stared at Dean.

"Basically." Dean yawned loudly and scooted back on the bed. He grabbed the remote for the television as he began bunching the limp motel pillows behind his head, and flipped on the TV. Sam stared at him for a few more moments, then shrugged when his brother failed to continue.

"O-kay. Well, Bobby thinks Reggie might be right about it being ghouls. He offered to do a little more digging, see if he can find anything more about how to identify and kill these things. Until then, he thinks we should lay low. "Try not to get our asses eaten in the meantime" were his exact words."

Dean snorted and shook his head. "Sounds like Bobby." He flipped through a few channels before shutting the TV off. "I'm kind of beat. I think I'm going to hit the hay, try and get some sleep." He turned off the lamp on his side of the nightstand and turned onto his side, facing away from Sam. He heard his brother sigh and then movement as Sam pulled off his shoes and got into his bed. A few minutes later, the room went completely dark as Sam turned off the last light.

Dean stared into the darkness, not really tired enough for sleep yet. He had too much running through his head; most of it about the conversation with Reggie. What was she hiding from them? Finally, after what seemed like hours and long after Sam's steady breathing signaled he was out like a light, did Dean succumb to fitful sleep himself.

* * *

The clock on the nightstand read seven forty-five in the morning when Sam opened his eyes and sat up, running his hands through his tousled hair. He yawned and scrubbed his face, trying to wake up completely. The shower was running in the bathroom and Sam groaned, knowing Dean was going to use up all the hot water on him. He could hear his brother singing the Guns-N-Roses song from the night before, Dean's inability to carry a tune apparent even over the running exhaust fan. Sam groaned again and got up, hoping that Reggie would let him use her shower.

He pulled on his boots, not bothering to tie them, gathered some clothes, and slipped out into the bright morning. Sam squinted as sunshine reflected off the fresh layer of snow that had fallen during the night. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes and started walking.

Sam had only taken two of the six steps it would have required for him to get to Reggie's room when he realized a car was missing from the lot; Reggie's dark blue Plymouth was gone. "Dammit," he mumbled and turned around, heading back into his room. By the time Dean was finished in the bathroom, Sam was already dressed and waiting for his brother.

"Hey, Sammy. You get a good night's sleep?" He draped his towel over the door handle and grabbed his toothbrush, humming to himself.

"Reggie's car is gone, Dean," Sam said.

Dean froze mid stride and slowly rotated around to look at Sam.

"By gone you mean…?"

"Gone. As in no longer where it was parked last night. No longer in the parking lot at all."

Sam got up from the chair he'd been sitting in and grabbed one of the duffle bags off the floor, pulling out a sawed-off and two small silver knives. He tucked the gun into an inside pocket of his jacket and slipped the knives into a strap at his ankle. When he looked up, Dean had pulled on his leather coat and was checking his own gun, an ivory handled Colt .45.

"I don't care how hot she is, I'm going to kick her sneaky, underhanded ass," Dean growled and threw open the door. Reggie stood in the doorway, her hand raised in mid knock. "Where the hell did you go?" Dean snapped at her.

Reggie held up three cups stuck inside a small gray holder situated around a small white bag and waved it in front of Dean's face. "I went to get breakfast," she stated, brushing past him into the room. She placed the items on the table and turned to glare at Dean, her hands on her hips. "Now, what's this I heard about kicking someone's ass?" She looked from Dean to Sam, waiting for an answer.

"Apparently there was a misunderstanding," Sam said. Dean slammed the door closed and both of them jumped.

"Next time you pull out of that lot, you better leave a note," he snarled. Reggie blinked at him in surprise.

"Really? Last time I checked I didn't need to report to you, Dean."

"You do now." Reggie balled her hands into fists and took an angry step forward.

Sam rushed over and stopped in front of Reggie, both his hands raised, palms out, trying to be peacemaker. "Whoa, whoa. Let's all calm down." He placed a hand on Dean's chest and tried to smile at them both. "Dean was just worried you had gone off on your own, Reggie, that's all." Sam glanced at Dean and saw that his brother was glaring at a spot on the wall over the television, his jaw clenched tightly. "Dean?"

Dean took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to Sam. "I just want to hear her say that she won't go running off on her own. I want her to say that she'll come talk to us before she does anything on this hunt."

He stared past Sam at Reggie. Reggie glared defiantly back at him. Sam turned to look at Reggie too, waiting for the woman to speak.

"I won't promise that," she snapped. Reggie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But I guess I can agree to let you know where I'm going. Just in case."

"That's fair enough," Sam said. He looked at Dean and waited for him to answer.

"Okay, fine," Dean muttered. He stomped over and sat down on the end of his bed. Sam smiled at Reggie and she returned it weakly. She moved around Sam, pulled out a cup, and offered it to him.

"I got you one of those frappaccino things. Dean mentioned you liked those kind of coffee drinks." She reached into the white bag and pulled out a sesame bagel and handed that, too, to Sam. He took both the bagel and coffee and sat down at the table. Reggie yanked another cup from the holder and walked over to Dean, still holding the bag. "Here, this is yours," she said, shoving them at Dean. "Black coffee and two jelly donuts."

Dean sighed and took the items from her. "Thanks," he added reluctantly. He paused in the middle of taking a sip of his coffee, eyeing Reggie curiously. "How'd you know I liked the jelly kind?"

"You just seem like a jelly donut kind of guy."

Sam snorted and coughed as he choked on the bite of bagel he had just taken. Dean glared at him.

"Was that Bobby you were talking to last night, Sam?" Reggie asked, clearly changing the subject.

"Yeah. I called him hoping that he might have a little more information. He's going to get back to us as soon as he finds anything." Sam sipped his coffee and grinned. "This is pretty good."

"I'm glad you like it. I wasn't really sure what I was ordering. I'm not very familiar with all those frou-frou drinks."

This time it was Dean who choked. Reggie remained standing, sipping her coffee as she waited for Sam and Dean to finish eating.

"So what's the plan for today?" Dean asked before stuffing the last bite of donut into his mouth.

"There's an abandoned house on the outskirts of town that I haven't gotten a chance to check out. We could head over there," Reggie suggested.

Sam nodded and brushed his hands on his pant legs.

"From what I've read, ghouls like to hole up in abandoned places. I guess it's easier to torture and eat people when no one can hear them screaming." She shuddered and put her coffee cup down.

"That's a pleasant thought," Dean mumbled. He tossed his trash into the small beige trashcan by the bed and got up.

Clapping his hands together, he grinned. "Let's go."


	6. Chapter 5

**Five**

The large white house sat back from the main driveway shrouded by giant, ancient looking trees. Only a few black shutters remained, giving the outside an eerie, haunted look.

"Well, it looks like the kind of place a bunch of creepy, pasty, man-munching freaks would call home," Dean exclaimed as they stood just inside the line of woods that surrounded most of the property.

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, eliciting a chuckle from Reggie.

"From to the stuff I could find on this place in the town library, it's been empty for almost sixty years. According to the records, a Mr. Maxwell James, died in 1948 and left the house to his nephew. The nephew, Jonah Bloom, moved into the house in 1949, but only lived there for six months. He claimed the spirit of his uncle haunted the halls. Mr. Bloom tried to sell it without success and it eventually sat vacant.

"The county declared it condemned in 1981 and after they re-mapped the roadways, it was bypassed and forgotten. There are several local legends about the house, but I couldn't find anything to actually support any of them," Reggie said. "As far as I can tell, no one has come near this place in over twenty years."

"Except for the occasional stupid teenager," Dean muttered.

"No, not even them. Around here they take their legends seriously. If an elder tells you a place is bad and to stay away, the kids listen."

Both Dean and Sam stared at Reggie in disbelief.

"I didn't think such a place existed," Dean said with mock wonderment.

Sam and Reggie laughed and all three of them started walking towards the house. When they got to the porch, Dean motioned using the military hand signals his father had taught him for Reggie and Sam to go around to the back. They nodded and disappeared.

Dean pulled out his gun and silently climbed the porch steps. The wood was rotten and warped and creaked with every step. Dean grimaced as the top step cracked loudly under his weight. He hurried to the front door and tried the handle. The door, unlocked, creaked slowly open. He pulled out his flashlight and slipped inside.

The entryway was littered with dead leaves and dirt and, as he swept the beam of his flashlight over the aged floor, Dean saw that a thick layer of dust coated everything. The walls were cracked and in some places missing huge chucks of plaster. Dean eased into the next room, which he identified immediately as the living room.

A large, antique sofa sat against the wall, as moth eaten and rotten as the rest of the furniture in the room. He swept the room quickly and moved on. He could see the beams from Sam and Reggie's flashlights as they bounced through the kitchen doorway into the adjacent dining room and left them to clear those rooms.

Dean headed for the stairs to the second floor and took them two at a time. On the landing, he backed up until his back hit the damp wall and swept his flashlight up and down both directions of the long hallway.

The house appeared to be empty, and, after checking most of the rooms upstairs, Dean padded back down to the first floor to find Sam and Reggie. They were just coming up from the basement when Dean entered the kitchen.

"Find anything?" Dean asked, although he could already guess the answer.

"Nothing. Just a lot of dust and cobwebs." Sam brushed his free hand through his hair. "It's definitely free of ghouls as well as anything else remotely supernatural."

"Sam even pulled out the EMF meter and, basically, this place is as docile as a fluffy baby chick," Reggie said.

"Let's get out of here," Dean suggested. He turned and headed for the front door.

They were back at the Impala in twenty minutes, all three smudged with dirt and dust. Dean grabbed a handful of snow and stuck it inside one of the many stolen motel towels he had stored in the car. After the snow had melted some, he used the damp towel to wipe off his face and hands. Sam and Reggie did the same before climbing into the car. Dean cranked the heater up and peeled back out onto the road.

"Well, that was productive," Dean grumbled, turning on the windshield wipers.

"It was a likely place for the ghouls to be living," Reggie stated as she leaned forward from the backseat. "At least now we can cross it off the list."

"So where to now?" Dean asked.

"Well, I gotta get back to my room and clean up," Reggie said.

"What for? We should continue looking for these suckers while there's still some good daylight."

"Because, Dean. I'm supposed to meet Adrianne for lunch, remember?"

Dean glanced back at Reggie, perplexed.

"You were serious about that?"

"Yes, I was serious. Why is that such a surprise?"

"I guess I just never pictured you as the girlfriend type, that's all," Dean replied, using air quotes around the word girlfriend. Reggie sat back against the seat and folded her arms over her chest. Dean watched her in the rearview mirror, trying to read the expression on her face. "What'd I say?" He looked to Sam for help.

"Just get me back to the motel, please," Reggie snapped as Sam opened his mouth to answer.

Sam glanced back at Reggie and then at Dean, deciding that he was safer staying out of it.

Dean sped down the road and whipped the Impala into the motel parking area, skidding to a stop next to Reggie's Plymouth. She was out of the car before Dean had even turned off the engine. He and Sam climbed out of the car and made their way to their room, Dean mumbling to himself. Once inside, Sam picked up the room phone and dialed Bobby's number. Dean flopped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to Sam talk to the older man.

About twenty minutes later, they heard the Plymouth's engine roar to life and the sound of tires kicking up mud as Reggie sped out of the lot. Dean grunted and sat up, looking at Sam, who was flipping through their dad's journal again.

"Didn't you already look through that?"

"Yeah, but I figured a second glance can't hurt. Bobby said he's still looking, but so far, he's only managed to come up with the same stuff we already know. That ghouls are cunning, fast, strong, and eat human flesh. That they can hide in plain sight because of their ability to shield their true form until feeding time. Which is all the stuff Reggie's already told us." Sam sighed and closed the journal. "These things are some of the best hunters out there, Dean. They might even be worse than wendigos. You remember what happened that time in Blackwater Ridge."

Dean nodded, then smiled. "Yeah, but you were still getting back into the swing of things. You're not the same kid I took into the woods with me, Sammy."

"And yet you still insist on calling me "Sammy"."

"What can I say? It just rolls off the tongue," Dean quipped. Sam threw a pen at his brother, hitting him on the side of the head. "Ow!" Dean rubbed at the spot where the pen had struck. "So what do you want to do now?"

"I was thinking about checking out the library again," Sam replied. "See if maybe I can find another place that would be suitable for the ghouls to be using."

Dean groaned loudly and Sam laughed.

"I can go on my own, you know."

Dean grinned stupidly and grabbed the remote. "Good. I'll see you when you get back."

He settled onto his bed, a pillow under his chin, and flipped on the TV.

* * *

Sam walked out of the library and strolled down the sidewalk, rock salt crunching under his feet as he made his way back to where he'd parked the Impala. The air had turned colder and his breath rose in puffs in front of him. He zipped his jacket closed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, quickening his pace.

Sam had just gotten to the Impala and was reaching for the handle when he spotted Reggie and Adrianne coming out of a small café. He paused, watching them as they stood talking beside Adrianne's Audi. Reggie smiled at the woman, who looked as stunning dressed in a light gray pants suit as she did in the dress the night before, Sam noted, before Adrianne gave Reggie a wave and climbed into her car. She sped off down the street, heading towards a part of town populated by several imposing stone buildings.

"Sam?" Reggie called, spotting him standing on the sidewalk with his hand still on the handle of the Impala's door. He smiled at her and waved. She jogged across the road towards him, but didn't smile back. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check out the library to do some more research. I was trying to find another possible place the ghouls could be living," he answered defensively. Reggie stared at him, reading his face, which Sam was sure looked guilty regardless of the fact that he had nothing to feel guilty about. Reggie seemed to read this in his eyes and relaxed a little.

"Where's Dean?"

"He stayed back at the motel. Libraries and research aren't really his thing."

Reggie chuckled and nodded. "Why does that not surprise me. Are you headed back?"

"Yeah, I was."

Reggie glanced back at the little café, looking distracted. "Okay. Well then, I guess I'll see you later."

Sam smiled at her and climbed into the Impala. He watched in one of the side mirrors as Reggie jogged back across the intersection and disappeared around the corner, out of sight. A few seconds later, her Plymouth pulled up at the Stop sign and turned down a small side street.

Curious, Sam pulled the Impala out onto the road, did a complete one-eighty, and followed after her. It was hard keeping up with Reggie; she drove as erratically as Dean. Sam thought he lost her once when he came around the side of a municipal building and found himself at a dead end. Just off to the right, he saw a small alleyway, and after determining that the Impala would fit down it without being damaged, Sam drove through it slowly, coming out just as the tail end of the Plymouth disappeared down another side street.

"Where are you going?" he mumbled to himself.

When Sam finally caught up with Reggie, her car was parked at the end of a small hidden driveway, empty. He drove past, parked out of sight a block away, and got out. Sam was just walking down the broken sidewalk in front of a weathered looking rancher, when Reggie stepped out in front of him, anger flooding her pale complexion a deep pink.

"What the hell, Sam?" She took a threatening step forward and Sam backed up instinctively. "You can't really follow someone in an Impala, you know. It's not that inconspicuous!" she snapped.

"That's what people keep saying," Sam joked, trying to relax the situation.

Reggie glared at him.

"Why are you following me?"

"Come on Reggie. You tell Dean that there are things you don't want to tell us about this job and expect us to let it go? You were driving all over town…"

"Because I knew you were following me from the second you pulled the Impala around."

"Oh." Sam was stunned silent. Dean was going to love hearing about how his little brother couldn't even tail somebody without being made.

"Look, Sam. I appreciate that you and Dean want to help on this job, but it's _**my**_ hunt, and I plan on doing it as much on my own as I can. I know that makes me sound a little childish, but there are just some things you don't know."

"Because you won't tell us," Sam snapped.

"That's only to protect you and Dean."

"We don't need to be protected!" Sam cried out in frustration. "We've been doing this job a lot longer than you have and we've seen and done a lot of stuff you can't even begin to imagine. We've got far more experience in handling this kind of stuff."

Sam was angry now. He couldn't understand how Reggie continued to hold on to the notion that he and Dean needed anyone's protection?

"Don't give me that experience crap, Sam! This isn't my first hunt!"

Reggie took a deep breath and relaxed her hands, which had been balled into fists at her sides.

"Just let me figure something out, without the two of you breathing down my necks, and I promise you that, as soon as I have my answers, I'll tell you everything, okay?"

Sam nodded and relaxed his shoulders.

"Fine, I can live with that."

He gave her a weak half-smile and then laughed as a thought occurred to him.

"Dean, on the other hand, might be a little more difficult."

* * *

Reggie sat on the end of her bed, holding Frank's journal in her hands, running her fingers over the messy handwriting. There was a knock on her door and she sighed, snapping he journal closed as she wiped a tear off her cheek. She could already guess who was standing outside.

"What do you want, Dean?" she called.

"I want to talk to you," Dean replied through the door.

Reggie got up and walked to the door, sliding the lock back before opening it. Dean stood in front of her, dressed in an open, dark blue, button-up shirt over a black t-shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans. He gave her a smile, which lit up his green eyes and caused Reggie's stomach to jump uncomfortably. He started to take a step into her room, when she held up her hand, stopping him.

"Just say what you need to say."

Dean blinked at her in surprise then shrugged. "I'm not here to lecture or bargain or give you orders, if that's what you think."

"Oh really?" Reggie asked, raising an eyebrow at him in disbelief.

"Really. I just wanted to ask you if you were planning on going back to that bar we were at last night?" He paused, trying to appear nonchalant about the conversation, making it obvious that that was not why he'd originally knocked on Reggie's door. "'Cause Sam and I are going to head over there in an hour. I just figured we could take one car if you're gonna go too."

Reggie gaped at him for a moment, before regaining her composure and shaking her head.

"I am going to head over there, but I think it's best if we go in separate cars. You know, to keep up the appearance that we don't actually know each other."

Dean nodded nonchalantly. "Right, I didn't think about that."

"I'll just "run into you" again when I get there." Reggie started to close the door when Dean's hand shot out and stopped her, holding the door open.

"Is everything okay? You just seem a little…I don't know, distracted."

"Everything's fine." Reggie gave him a small smile. "I'll see you later on."

Dean let the door close and she slumped against it, her heart thudding in her chest. Reggie ran her hands through hair, yanking it onto the top of her head and securing it there with a rubber hair-tie. She ran her finger lightly over the three-inch pink scar on the inside of her left arm, tracing the spot where the demon had cut her, severing the artery. Reggie had lost a lot of blood and had almost died that night, yet that wasn't what it reminded her about.

Even now, she could see the scene that had played out before the demon attack; her and Dean in one of the bedrooms of the empty apartment building they had been squatting in. There had been some serious passion between them, but she had stopped it before it had gone too far. She had never told Dean why, although she had attempted to before they said goodbye a few days later. Feelings were a weakness in this business, a distraction neither of them could afford, and she had held her tongue instead. She had watched them drive off, knowing that it was better to just let it all go.

Reggie had stuck around at Bobby Singer's, pouring herself into finding a job once she was healed enough to leave. Bobby had tried to get her to stay longer, to hang out at his home, helping him do research for the occasional hunter who called when they needed Bobby's expertise. But once the wounds had closed and she had almost full use of her left arm again, Reggie had packed her things and hit the road.

She had spent a few days at her house in Lisbon, Maryland, packing things and putting them in storage; closing up the leftover shell of her home. Once that was finished, she called Bobby, told him about the folder she'd left behind, hidden under one of the many piles of books in his cluttered house, before heading to Bridgewater.

Reggie had immersed herself in the job, trying to block out all the memories and moments that kept creeping back up on her. Reggie had thought it would've been a long while before she would see Dean Winchester again, much longer than this. Part of her had considered the possibility that she might never see him again.

Yet here he was, as cocky, self-assured, and frustratingly handsome as he was on the first day she'd met him. Reggie shook her head and tugged off her t-shirt, heading into the bathroom to get a shower.

Once she was finished, she got dressed quickly, pulling on a snug pair of blue jeans and a long sleeved, black shirt. She tugged on her boots, secured a long silver blade into a strap just below her knee and yanked her pant leg back down to cover it. Reggie looked over the room before grabbing her leather jacket and a gun as she left her motel room.

The sun had set a few hours before and the night had become frigid. She pulled on her jacket and zipped it closed, fishing out her car keys from one of the many pockets. Reggie peeled out of the motel parking lot onto the highway and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, letting the Plymouth's engine growl loudly as the speedometer needle climbed higher.


	7. Chapter 6

**Six**

Sam Winchester stood leaning against the wall, watching as his brother conned yet another person in a game of pool. He was still nursing his second bottle of beer, unlike Dean, who downed another glass of whiskey before taking his last shot. The shiny black eight ball shot into the corner pocket, just as Dean had called, and the man his brother had been playing slammed his stick onto the table.

"Pay up, buddy," Dean said as he held out his hand.

The guy pulled out his money and tossed it onto the pool table, before storming off into the crowd. Dean chuckled and shook his head.

"What a sore loser," he muttered as he walked over to Sam, adding the winnings to a growing wad of money, before stuffing it back in his pocket.

"You don't have to look so smug about taking his money, Dean," Sam said.

Dean looked at him, appalled.

"I can't help the fact that I'm fantastic looking **AND** exceptionally talented. And I'm not going to pretend I don't enjoy taking his money."

Sam groaned and took a sip of his beer.

"I think I'm going to go get another drink. Need anything?" Dean asked.

He glanced at the beer in Sam's hand and shook his head.

"Never mind. I see you're playing Sober Sally tonight."

Dean disappeared into the throng of people swaying to the music blasting from hidden speakers. Sam scanned the bar, mostly out of habit, before turning his attention back to the pool tables. He watched a group of four burly men, all dressed in flannel shirts and dirty pants, set up for a game.

When several minutes passed and Dean still hadn't returned, Sam went looking for him. He found his brother at the bar, surrounded by a group of blonde women, all of whom looked barely older than twenty-one. One of the girls, who was dressed in tight fitting, cut-off shorts and a tube top, was stroking the top of her glass and staring intensely at Dean. Sam came up behind Dean and waited for his brother to realize he was there.

"Sammy! Hey, ladies, this is my partner Sam. Sammy, these are the ladies," Dean shouted, beaming from ear to ear.

"Hi Sammy," a slender girl dressed in a skin tight black dress purred, stroking her hand up and down Sam's arm.

"It's Sam, actually," Sam grimaced, and pulled her hand away.

The woman glared at him for a second, hurt by his obvious rejection, then returned her attention to Dean. There were several empty glasses already in front of Dean and his cheeks were beginning to develop a rosy hue.

"Maybe you should slow down a little," Sam leaned in and whispered in his brother's ear.

"Don't be such a buzz kill," Dean grumbled as he knocked back another glass of liquor.

Sam gave up and went back to the pool tables. A few minutes later, Dean came sauntering over, his groupies behind him.

"Who wants to play?" he yelled.

"I'll give it a try," called a voice.

Adrianne came striding over and Sam's heart skipped a beat. The woman looked amazing, dressed in a pale blue satin scoop neck top over black slacks. Her blonde hair was pulled back from her face into an elegant twist and her eyes sparkled when she spotted Sam. She grinned at him and he returned the smile.

"Hey. Sam, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Hi again." He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. "Are you sure you want to play him?" Sam asked.

Adrianne glanced at Dean and shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" She grabbed a pool stick and started chalking the tip. Sam looked over at Dean and saw that his fan club had retreated to a corner to watch.

Dean finished setting up the balls and motioned to Adrianne.

"Ladies first."

Adrianne took aim and hit the cue ball, sending it streaking down the table. Her break was almost as good as an expert's, impressing Sam and flooring Dean. She took a few more shots until, finally, she missed. Dean smiled and cracked his knuckles, before grabbing his pool stick. He cleared the table quickly, never missing a shot.

"You're good," Adrianne commented as she put down her pool stick and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small wad of cash. "How much?" she asked, counting out a few bills.

Sam watched, shocked, as Dean held up his hand and shook his head. "I don't want your money."

"Thanks, but I was the one who wanted to play you and I lost."

"It's okay, really. It was just for fun."

"At least let me buy you a drink or something," Adrianne offered.

"All right, you twisted my arm," Dean relented with a sly smile. "I'll take a double of whiskey."

"I'll go with you," Sam offered, quickly downing the rest of his beer. He followed Adrianne back to the bar. She got the attention of the bartender, the same guy from the night before, and waited for him to come over.

"Is there anything your partner isn't good at," Adrianne called over the pounding music.

"I can think of a few things," Sam called back. He smiled down at her and she smiled back, her blue eyes lighting up. The bartended appeared, halting their conversation while Adrianne ordered.

"So how long have you lived in Bridgewater?" Sam asked as they began making their way back to the pool tables after getting their drinks.

"Only a few months. I moved from New York after a bad break-up with my fiancé. I decided I need a change of scenery," Adrianne called over her shoulder as they walked.

"How'd you end up in Bridgewater?"

"It seemed like a nice, quiet place. At least, until people started disappearing a couple of weeks ago, that is."

That uneasy feeling from the night before hit Sam and he stopped.

Adrianne, sensing that he was no longer behind her, stopped too, and turned to him.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam stared at her and blinked, trying to get rid of the stone in the pit of his stomach. "Nothing," he said, forcing a smile on his face. The look must have been convincing because Adrianne smiled at him and started walking again. Sam rolled his shoulders and followed behind her.

By the time they had gotten back to the pool tables, Dean was already playing another game with a short man in stained coveralls. He purposely missed a shot and the man grinned confidently, falling for Dean's con. He took three shots before missing the nine ball and stepped back to let Dean shoot. Sam watched as Dean lined up his shot and cleared the table in record time. The man cursed and slammed his money onto the table in front of Dean before storming off.

"So, what'd I miss?" Reggie asked as she pushed through the crowd and emerged beside Adrianne.

"Dean here seems to also be a pro at billiards," Adrianne stated, nodding at Dean. Dean grinned at them.

"Really?" Reggie said, taking the bottle of beer Adrianne offered her. "This I gotta see."

Dean was already setting up the table for his next game against one of the burly men Sam had been watching play earlier.

Adrianne, Reggie, and Sam stood watching as Dean played three more games, winning all of them. An hour passed until finally, it seemed, that people had caught on to Dean's game. He held up his hands and turned in a slow circle.

"Who wants to play me now?" he called.

No one stepped forward. Sam looked around at all the disgruntled faces watching his brother and shook his head, thinking that if they made it out of the parking lot alive tonight, it would be a miracle.

"I guess I could try," Reggie said hesitantly. She handed her half drank beer to Sam and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt. Dean handed her a pool stick and she held it awkwardly.

"Here, let me show you how to shoot," Dean offered, taking Reggie's hands in his own and leaning with her onto the table. He pulled her arm back a few times as he whispered instructions in her ear, then stood up and stepped away.

Dean glanced at his groupies and beamed confidently at them. All four smiled widely back and waved. "Why don't you break," he suggested to Reggie without looking at her.

Reggie bent down, aimed, and hit the cue ball hard. It slammed into the other balls and sent them spinning in different directions. One ball rolled to the edge of a corner pocket and hung for a second before dropping in. Adrianne clapped and cheered Reggie. Reggie looked to Dean who nodded at her.

"It's still your turn," Dean said.

Reggie took aim at the seven ball and shot for it. The cue ball hit it too hard and it bounced off the bumper, rolling past the side pocket she had been aiming for.

"Damn," she said, disappointment puckering her face.

Dean shook his head and rolled his neck before lining up his own shot. He fired two balls in then paused in the middle of his third, staring over the top of the table. Sam followed his gaze and saw that Reggie was talking to a young guy with spiky blonde hair. She had her hand on his shoulder and was giggling at something he had just whispered in her ear. Sam looked from Dean to Reggie and back again, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I guess I should have mentioned that Reggie doesn't like to play fair," Adrianne whispered to Sam.

Sam watched as Dean stood up, rolled his shoulders once more, before trying for his shot again. Just as he pushed his pool stick forward, Reggie laughed out loud. Dean's shot went wild, the cue ball completely missing the thirteen ball he'd been shooting for.

Reggie strolled back to the table.

"Is it my turn again?" she asked innocently and Dean grunted at her.

She moved around the table and took aim. Reggie pointed at the corner pocket and shot. The five ball she aimed for shot into the pocket easily. Adrianne cheered again. Reggie tried for another shot and missed, her lip coming up in a small pout as she looked at the spiky-haired guy she'd been flirting with.

"I can't believe I missed that," she whined.

Dean took his next shot, glancing up at Reggie and the guy every few seconds, and missed. "Your turn," he growled when Reggie failed to notice. She was staring at the guy, apparently completely entranced in what the man was saying.

"Oops, sorry." Reggie hurried over and stared at the table. That was when Sam saw it.

One moment, Reggie was looking at the table like she was trying to choose which pretty color she wanted to try for and the next, she was looking at Adrianne. She winked one emerald eye at her friend and bent over the table, a fierce look of concentration set on her face. She pointed at one of the side pockets.

"Two ball in the left side pocket," she said and took her shot.

The ball shot across the table in a blur and landed in the pocket. She moved quickly around the table, nailing every one of her shots. Finally, she took aim at the eight ball.

"Front corner pocket," she called, pointing at the pocket beside her left hand.

She hit the cue ball and Dean watched in horror as the ball rolled steadily up the table and dropped into the pocket.

Sam couldn't help it; he began to laugh as he watched Dean's face crumble in shocked disbelief. Reggie held her hand out, wiggling her fingers at Dean.

"I believe that'll be two hundred bucks?"

Around them, people were cheering loudly.

"You've played before," Dean accused, pulling out his wad of winnings from his back pants pocket.

"I never said I hadn't," Reggie quipped.

She took the bills from Dean's outstretched fingers and turned back to the blonde guy, fanning herself with the cash.

"Next round's on me, Doug," she cried and grabbed his hand, pulling him after her. They disappeared into the crowd of clapping people, heading for the bar. Sam continued to laugh as Dean stood gaping after them.

Dean recovered a second later, a look of determination on his face, and turned, with a crooked smile, to the group of blondes still sitting at a table nearby. "I think I need another drink. Who's with me," he called. All four girls jumped up and scrambled after him.

"This is going to get ugly," Sam mumbled. Adrianne looked at him, confused. He shook his head and took her hand, noting the slight chill to her skin. "Are you cold?" he asked.

Adrianne shook her head and smiled at him. "No, not really. It's probably just cold from holding the beer."

Sam pulled her through the throng of people, noting that a band had set up on the stage and were about to begin playing. His hopes that they were better than the band the night before were quickly dashed as they began mangling Green Day's "American Idiot".

When they made it to the bar, Dean was at one end and Reggie the other. Reggie was surrounded by several of the men Dean had scammed earlier in the night and was laughing with them, a glass in her hand. Dean was downing yet another glass of whiskey. Although he was surrounded by the four blonde girls, he was glaring down the bar at Reggie and her group of admirers.

Dean ordered another drink and was raising it to his lips when Sam grabbed his arm. "I think you should slow down, man." Dean yanked his arm from Sam's grasp and glared at him.

"Since when are you my mother?" Dean snapped.

He gulped the drink down and waved for the occupied bartender. The guy nodded at Dean, but hurried over to where Reggie stood. Sam saw Reggie glance down at them and frown while she ordered. That uneasy feeling settled on him again, the hairs on the back of his neck raising up.

"I think I'm going to head out," Adrianne shouted, trying to be heard over the music. Sam looked down at her and saw that her pale skin seemed a shade lighter.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

"I think I might be coming down with something. I'm sure I'll be fine once I get outside."

"Did you want me to walk you out?" Sam took a few steps into the crowd, holding her arm.

Adrianne shook her head and smiled weakly at him. "No, stay here. Have fun and keep an eye on your partner. He looks like he might get himself into some trouble tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, but thank you. Can you tell Reggie I said goodnight?"

Sam nodded at Adrianne. "Sure, no problem." She waved at Sam and disappeared into the crowd heading in the direction of the front door.

Sam turned back to Dean and saw that Reggie was standing beside him. They appeared to be arguing heatedly and Dean was pointing at Doug. Reggie shook her head at Dean who abruptly turned, ignoring her. Sam noticed that only one woman was standing beside his brother now.

She was tall and slender with light blonde hair that hung down to the middle of her back. She wore a dark blue dress that was cut low, showing off her ample chest. Dean leaned on the stool towards the woman who began whispering in his ear.

"Sam," Reggie called as she pushed through people, coming to a stop in front of him. "Can you do me a favor and take these?"

She handed him Dean's keys to the Impala. Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly at Reggie, but she just shook her head.

"He doesn't know I took them. I lifted them from his pocket because he's clearly in no condition to drive." She looked back to Dean and the blonde and shuddered. "Not that he's going anywhere at the moment," Reggie grumbled.

She turned back to Sam and frowned. "Where's Adrianne?"

"She said she wasn't feeling well so she took off. She wanted me to tell you she said goodnight," Sam yelled as the band began mangling Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me."

"God, this band sucks almost as bad as the last one," Reggie grumbled. Sam chuckled as he thought of Dean's comment the night before. Reggie glared back at Dean and the woman.

"Why don't you head back to the motel, Sam," Reggie blurted out.

Sam stared at her, confused. "I can't leave Dean here."

"I can give him a ride back," Reggie stated over her shoulder. She turned and looked back at Sam. "You look really tired, Sam, and I was planning on sticking around for a little while longer anyway. This way you won't have to fight with Dean to get him to leave."

Sam looked at Dean and realized Reggie was right. If he tried to get Dean to leave now, there was bound to be an argument and now that Adrianne had left, Sam no longer wanted to hang around the bar watching his brother get drunk. He also didn't want to have to spend another night sleeping on the backseat of the Impala while Dean added another name to his list of sexual conquests. If Reggie didn't bring him back to the motel tonight, the mystery woman would in the morning.

"All right. I think I will head out," Sam relented. He went back to the pool tables to get his jacket and was halfway across the floor when one of Dean's former groupies, the handsy girl in the black dress, stepped out in front of him.

"Sammy, right?" she asked. When she saw that he was pulling on his jacket, she began to pout. "Where you going?"

"It's Sam and I was leaving, actually."

"So soon? But it's only a little after midnight." She reached out and stroked his arm, taking a step closer to him as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

"Well, that's late enough for me," he said and pushed past her.

He squeezed through the door out into the brisk night air, relaxing. Sam zipped his jacket closed, jogged down the steps, and over to the Impala. After getting the heater running, pumping out tepid air, he backed out of his spot and drove off, heading for the motel.


	8. Chapter 7

**Seven**

Reggie stood at the bar, watching Dean flirt with the busty blonde beside him. Doug, the guy she had met on her way over to the pool tables, knowing that was where she would find Dean and Sam, stood beside her. He was trying to talk to her, but her attention was too focused on Dean to notice. After a few minutes, he gave up and disappeared into the crowd of people around her.

"You are such an idiot," Reggie mumbled to herself as she glared at Dean.

The bartender came over and asked if she wanted another drink but Reggie declined. There was only so much Sprite a person could drink in one night. She'd had two beers but that had been hours ago. Right now Reggie knew she needed to be sharp, her focus resolute, and booze would inhibit that. The blonde smiled at Dean and disappeared. Reggie moved from her spot and forced her way through the crowd over to Dean.

"Where'd your friend go?" she asked, sliding onto the empty stool. Dean rolled his glazed eyes over her and smiled.

"She had to go to the bathroom. Where'd yours go?" His speech was slightly slurred and his cheeks were a deep shade of pink.

"Hell if I know. I wasn't all that interested." Reggie leaned into Dean and stared into his eyes.

"What _are_ you interested in, then?" Dean asked, knocking back another glass of whiskey. Reggie could smell the alcohol oozing from every pore of his skin. "'Cause I'd really like to know."

Reggie took a deep breath, wincing as she tasted the booze in the air around him, and decided she was going to have to answer Dean's question. At least he was less likely to remember the answer tomorrow.

"You, Dean. I can't get you out of my head," she whispered, giving her soft voice a slight purr.

Dean scoffed and waved for the bartender. "Sure you do," he grunted disbelievingly.

Reggie took his hand and lowered it, twining her fingers through his. Dean stared at their hands as if they belonged to someone else. "I do," she breathed. She took another deep breath and leaned closer, the heat radiating off Dean's cheek warming Reggie's goose bump-covered flesh. "Why don't we get out of here?" Reggie whispered into his ear.

Dean pulled back, almost toppling off his stool, and Reggie grabbed his arms to steady him. Dean scoffed at her again and yanked her hand off his elbow. Reggie leaned in again and took another deep breath.

"I'm serious, Dean," Reggie whispered. "Let's get the hell out of here."

She gently nipped the bottom of his ear with her teeth and felt him shiver. A smile crept across her lips despite herself and Reggie sat back, looking at him. Dean smirked at her and hopped down off his stool.

"Then let's go," he slurred, tilting on his feet. Just then, the blonde appeared at Dean's side.

"Where are you going, Deanie?" she purred, placing her hand on Dean's arm above where Reggie held him. Dean stared blankly at her.

"He's actually coming with me," Reggie stated, pulling Dean's jacket from the back of his bar stool and draping it over her arm. She began to lead him towards the door before the blonde stepped in front of her, blocking their path.

"He was talking to me," the woman stated, her voice pure ice. Reggie stared at her for a moment before recovering.

"Yeah, but, you see, he came here with me and now he's leaving with me. I'm sure you can find another warm body to take home before the bar closes," Reggie spat. She brushed past the woman, bumping her with her shoulder hard enough to make the woman take a couple steps backwards.

Reggie led Dean outside and over to her car, hoping the cold night air would sober him up enough to get him back to the motel. It had begun to flurry again and she slipped once on the light dusting over the asphalt as she helped Dean get in the Plymouth. She pulled out of the lot and sped down the highway, turning on her high beams so she could see better.

Dean sat in the passenger seat, facing the window, and until he actually spoke, Reggie'd thought he had finally passed out.

"I'm sorry I got your Uncle Frank killed," Dean mumbled.

Reggie's heart sank and she clenched the steering wheel.

"That seems to be the only thing I'm good at, though - getting loved ones killed. My dad had to sell his soul to save me because I wasn't strong enough to stop old Yellow-eyes when I had the chance. Sam died because I couldn't protect him like my dad ordered me to.

"And even when freakin' angels sent me back in time, I wasn't good enough to save my grandparents or my own mother." Dean turned to look at her, his face a mask of agony. "I'll probably get you killed, too," he groaned. "And I don't know if I can live with that."

Reggie pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car.

"I am not going to die, Dean," she snapped. "And none of those people: your mother, your father, Frank, none of them died because of something you did or didn't do." Dean began shaking his head at her. "They died because something horrible happened to them, something you had no control over."

She grasped his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"I have never blamed you for what happened that night in Lisbon and you need to stop carrying this burden on your shoulders because it's not your weight to bare!"

They stared at each other, the silence stretching for what seemed like hours. Reggie slid across the seat, pulling herself closer to Dean, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

* * *

The sound of running water woke Dean and he rolled onto his back, the bed springs squeaking under his weight. He opened his eyes, but the searing pain that greeted him made him scrunch them tightly shut again. Dean groaned and winced as every sound shot pain through his brain. He waited for the nausea to fade, then tried opening his eyes again.

On the bedside table beside him he spotted a glass of water which instantly made him thirsty. Dean gently pushed himself up, leaning against the headboard for support and grabbed the glass, gulping it down. Dean noticed two little white pills sitting beside where the glass of water had been resting and he dry swallowed them, cringing at the familiar bitter taste of the aspirin.

Dean hadn't noticed that the water had shut off, but now he realized he could hear movement from inside the bathroom. He opened his mouth to call to Sam when the door opened and Reggie emerged in a wave of steam, buttoning her jeans.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she said, keeping her voice low. She unraveled the towel around her head and let her wet hair fall around her shoulders. Dean gaped at her as he watched her walk across the room to a black bag sitting on the floor. Reggie bent down and began rummaging through it, finally pulling out a hairbrush and running it through her hair.

"I ran out and got coffee a little while ago. It might still be warm if you want it."

She nodded towards the small dining table and Dean followed her gaze, staring at the small brown cup sitting there. Slowly, he returned his gaze to Reggie, who was bent over another bag, oblivious to Dean's current stunned state.

"What happened last night?" Dean choked out, wincing as the effort made his head throb.

"You mean you don't remember?" Reggie asked incredulously. Dean shook his head and grimaced as the bitter aspirin taste made a repeat appearance. "I mean, it had to have been the best night of my life! And from the sounds you were making, I figured it was for you, too."

Dean's jaw dropped open and he stared at Reggie. She began to laugh hysterically, grasping her side as her whole body shook.

"I'm…I'm…just kidding, Dean," she gasped.

Dean glared at her, threw the covers off, and stood up. The room swayed from side to side and he sat back down heavily. Seeing this brought Reggie up short and she walked over to him, sitting down beside Dean on the bed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have teased you, but I couldn't help it. You really thought we'd…?"

"I didn't know what to think," Dean snapped, fixing an angry stare at a spot on one of the curtains.

"You're still wearing your clothes, for god's sake," Reggie cried, pointing at Dean's chest.

He looked down and realized he was, in fact, still wearing the same pair of jeans and black t-shirt he had put on yesterday. Dean tried to think back on the night before, trying to remember past the blinding headache pounding in his temples.

"Here, drink this," Reggie said, handing him a glass with amber liquid in it.

Dean sniffed it and recognized the smell of cheap whiskey.

"Hair of the dog and all that crap," Reggie mumbled, waving her hand at the glass.

Dean gulped it down, wincing as the liquor burned his throat and handed the glass back to her.

"I see you took the aspirin I left for you. I have more when you need it."

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, his voice not as hoarse as before.

"In your room, I guess," Reggie replied, shrugging. "By the time we got back, I figured he was already asleep and I didn't want to wake him. So I drug your stupid, drunken ass in here and dropped you into bed."

Dean rubbed his hands over his face and stifled a yawn. He looked around the room, still trying to remember.

"What _**do**_ you remember of last night?" Reggie asked.

Dean shrugged and winced when the movement caused a sensation similar to pins stabbing into his brain. "Not much. I remember going to the bar and I remember beating a line of suckers at pool." As Dean talked, things began to come back to him, blurry images and thoughts. "I remember you hustling me at pool."

Reggie laughed and covered her mouth when Dean winced again. "Sorry," she said in a hushed tone. "Do you remember leaving the bar?"

She was looking at him strangely, as if expecting him to remember something in particular.

"I vaguely remember getting into your car and pieces of the drive back here. Other than that, nothing." Dean rubbed his temples, trying to force something stuck in the back of his aching head to come forward.

"Dean?" Reggie asked tentatively and she reached up and gently took his hand away from his face. Dean stared at their fingers intertwined between them on the bed and finally it came to him.

"What happened to that blonde I was talking to?" he asked. Reggie's hand gripped his tightly and Dean looked up at her. He caught the brief flash of pain on her face before it was replaced with fury. She dropped his hand and stood up.

"I'm glad you remember her," she snapped.

"Are you…jealous?" he asked, getting slowly to his feet. The room swayed again, but this time steadied so that Dean was able to remain standing.

"No, you idiot," Reggie scoffed, her voice getting higher. "You don't even realize how much danger you were in last night. Your raging libido is going to get you killed one day, Dean, you know that?" Reggie began pacing back and forth in front of him, clenching and unclenching her hands.

"What are you talking about?"

Dean reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her in place in front of him. Her pacing was making him feel sick.

"That woman you were talking to last night was a ghoul, Dean."

Dean stared at Reggie, stunned. "What…how could…how do you know that?" he stammered.

"I told you there were some things I knew that I didn't tell you." Reggie's face softened as she talked. "I've been here for a while, Dean. I've had time to do a lot, and I mean _**a lot**_, of research. After a week, when I discovered the part about ghouls being able to cloak themselves to look normal, to look human, I realized I wasn't going to be able to find out who they were without becoming a meal myself.

"So I decided to go about finding them another way." Reggie sat down on the end of her bed and looked up at Dean. "They move from town to town so I decided the best place to start would be with any new residents. Anyone who had come to town in the time before the abductions started. In a town like Bridgewater, new people aren't that common. So far I've found three people who fit into that."

"Three? That's it?"

Dean sank into one of the dining chairs and picked up the coffee cup Reggie had pointed out to him earlier.

She shook her head no. "I don't think that's it. I think these things have been moving into the area in groups for awhile. That's where I'm running into problems. I've only been able to go back over the last three years of records for any new residents. Plus, not all of the three fit what you would expect. Your girl last night wasn't even on my list."

"Then how did you know?"

Dean grimaced as he took a sip of the coffee; it was ice cold. He put the cup down and pushed it away.

"I don't know. Intuition, I guess." Reggie shrugged. "I know that sounds like a load of crap, but it's true. I could just tell there was something off about her. When I saw her leave to go to the bathroom, I decided it was my chance to get you out of there safely. But she came back sooner than I expected her to. Something happened then that made me positive I was right."

Reggie shuddered again and bit her bottom lip nervously.

"What?" Dean asked, watching Reggie intently.

"She wasn't keen to let you walk out of that bar with me so she tried to intimidate me into leaving without you. I think I pissed her off and, in that brief second when she lost control of her emotions, her veil slipped a little and I saw the creature beneath."

Reggie stared at Dean, waiting for him to say something. She watched as concern flooded his face.

"She's going to be coming after you now."

"I don't think she realized I saw the slip."

"You can't know that for sure. If the bitch even has an inkling that you've figured it out, she'll hunt you down for sure."

"What does it matter, Dean? I'm not going anywhere."

"Your life is in danger, Reggie! You have to leave," Dean cried, ignoring his pounding headache and the swaying room, as he leapt to his feet.

"You and Sam wouldn't leave when I tried to get you to, when I tried to keep you safe. How can you expect me to leave now when the situation's been reversed?"

"Because I'm not about to let you stay here and die," Dean snapped.

He started grabbing things off the floor and shoving them into bags. He felt Reggie's hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off, spinning to glare at her.

"Don't argue with me Reggie. Don't you even start!"

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean," Reggie said calmly, her emerald eyes set determinedly. "Pack my things and throw them in the trunk of my car if that's what you want, but I won't go. I'm not leaving town in the middle of a job. I'm not leaving until these bastards are stopped."

Dean glared at her, holding one of her shirts in one hand and her black bag in the other. She took the bag from him and tossed it back onto the floor next to the dresser.

"Why can't you just listen to me this once?" he asked, tossing the shirt onto the bed behind her.

"Why can't you just accept the fact that I'm in this life and you won't always be around to send me packing every time my life is in danger?"

Dean snorted and relaxed his shoulders, defeated. "Okay, you got me there." There was a knock on the door and Reggie hurried to it, peering through the peephole.

"It's Sam," she said, and pulled back the padlock. She opened the door and Sam stepped hesitantly into the room. "Morning."

Sam looked from Reggie to Dean, before speaking. "Did I interrupt something?" He looked uncomfortable. "I could hear Dean yelling through the wall, but I couldn't make out what about."

"Dean almost became some ghoul's version of a Quarter Pounder last night," Reggie replied.

"What?" Sam asked, staring at his brother.

"Relax, Sammy, I'm fine. Apparently, I need to make better choices in the chicks I pick up when I'm drunk, but other than that I'm good."

"What the hell happened after I left last night?" Sam asked.

He stood silently listening to Reggie recount their encounter with the ghoul at the bar and the argument that she and Dean had been having right before Sam knocked.

"You should leave town, Reggie," Sam stated once she was finished. Reggie rolled her eyes at him and opened her mouth to object when Sam held his hand up. "Wait, I'm saying that I agree with Dean and you should leave town. But I also know that you won't because if the tables were turned, I wouldn't leave either."

Reggie nodded and smiled at Sam. "Thanks."

"Now that we've got that decided, how's about we find these sons of bitches and exterminate them," Dean stated, looking at Sam and Reggie.


	9. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Sam watched in the rearview mirror as Reggie hurried across the street and up the stairs of the municipal building, disappearing inside. A steady rain had begun to fall, thundering on the roof of the Plymouth and drowning out the music softly drifting from the radio. His cell phone buzzed on the seat beside him and Sam picked it up, seeing Dean's number on the caller I.D.

"Hey, man. She's inside now."

"Good. Let's hope she can get the information we need and get out without any problems."

The phone beeped as Sam lost his signal and the call disconnected. Sam glanced in the rearview mirror again, watching as a small pick-up truck stopped at the light, temporarily blocking his view of the building. An unexpected clap of thunder made him jump.

"Come on Reggie," Sam mumbled. He heard his phone buzz again and answered without looking this time. "Yeah?"

"Is she out yet?" Dean asked.

"No, not yet. It's only been about five minutes, Dean, relax."

"That's easy for you to say. You're not the one stuck back here at the motel."

"You could have come along. Instead, you chose to stay back at the room and nurse your hangover." He paused, waiting for Dean to argue with him. Sam was glad Dean hadn't come along. His brother was whiny and irritable when hung over and his mood would have made waiting for Reggie absolutely unbearable.

"Just hurry up," Dean snapped and slammed the phone down.

Sam sighed and dropped his cell phone back onto the seat beside him. He looked out the side window at the rivulets of rain running down and began doodling in the fog from his breath. He'd gotten so preoccupied by this activity that, when the passenger door opened, Sam jumped again.

Reggie slid in and slammed the door, yanking her soaked hair off her face. "Sorry. Did I scare you?" Sam handed her a towel and she began squeezing her hair with it.

"Were you able to get anything?" he asked, turning the car on so the heater could run.

She shivered and nodded. "I was able to charm my way into the records room and found a census that was done six years ago as well as the most recent phone directory, which hasn't even been published yet."

Reggie held her hands over the vent as Sam pulled out onto the road. She shrugged out of her jacket and Sam noticed the gray t-shirt she was wearing was soaked through, clinging tightly to her. He snapped his head back to the road and gripped the steering wheel, focusing on the slick street ahead of him. Reggie leaned over the seat into the back of the car and began rummaging through a bag on the backseat. Sam could feel the heat radiating off of her as she searched.

"This'll work," she said, sliding back onto her side of the car, a dark blue shirt in her hands. She tugged off her wet t-shirt and slipped the dry one over her head. Sam jerked the car back into his lane as a horn blared at him. Reggie chuckled. "Easy there, Sam. Maybe you should keep your eyes on the road."

"I wasn't...I mean, I didn't mean to..." Sam stuttered and she snorted.

"Relax, Sam. I was just teasing. It's not like you saw anymore of me than if I were in a bathing suit."

Sam laughed and glanced at her. "No, I guess not. But that still doesn't mean I want you to do that again, okay?" Reggie rolled her eyes.

"All right. I promise to keep my clothes on from now on," Reggie teased, holding one hand over her heart and raising the index and middle fingers of the other. "Scouts honor."

She pulled out a small stack of papers from an inside jacket pocket and placed it on her lap. Reggie had carefully sealed them within a plastic Ziploc bag to keep the papers safe from the pouring rain. Sam glanced over at Reggie as she stared down at it.

"How many people do you think will be missing from that thing?" he asked, nodding at the papers.

"The clerk said that they had record participation with the directory this year. Only four people opted to withhold their information, but I was able to get the guy to give them to me anyway," Reggie said, smiling deviously. Sam snorted and shook his head.

"I pity the poor guy," he joked. Reggie looked at him with mock innocence, batting her eyelashes. She tried to hold the look, but couldn't, and began laughing with Sam as they drove back to the motel.

Sam pulled the Plymouth up next to the Impala and turned the car off, handing the keys back to Reggie. "We'll make a run for it on the count of three?" he suggested. Reggie nodded and grabbed the door handle, waiting. Sam grabbed his handle and began counting. "Okay. One...two...three," and he yanked on the handle.

Both doors flew open and together they jumped from the car, racing to the covered walkway. Sam and Reggie continued to laugh as they made their way down the cement sidewalk. Just as Sam reached for the doorknob to his room, the door was flung open. Dean stood in the doorway, looking irritated.

"About damn time," he snapped, taking in their smiling faces. "I've been trying to call you for the last ten minutes." Dean stepped back to let them into the warm, dry room.

"Once we left town, I lost the signal completely," Sam explained, yanking off his wet jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He sat down on the end of his bed, still chuckling.

Reggie pulled out the papers and handed them to Dean. "This is what I was able to get. It should give us a pretty good idea as to who our ghouls are." She draped her jacket, which was far more wet than Sam's, on the second chair and sat down.

"What the hell was so funny?" Dean asked, looking from Sam to Reggie. They stared at each other, the same grin stretching across their faces as they continued to share their inside joke.

"It's nothing, Dean," Sam finally said, looking up at his brother. Dean stared at each of them, unconvinced, then shrugged and sat down at the table. He pulled out the documents and spread them on the table between him and Reggie.

"We're going to have to look over each name in the census and compare it to the names in the directory. Anyone who doesn't match up or isn't in the directory, we'll have to check out individually," Reggie said, pulling the smaller pile towards her.

"This is going to take forever," Dean whined as he flipped through his own pile.

"Unfortunately, it's the only thing we've got," Reggie replied as she reached out and patted Dean's hand comfortingly.

* * *

"That's it, I'm done," Dean cried out in frustration. "I can't take any more ." He pushed himself away from the table and stood up. It had been almost four hours since Reggie and Sam had returned from their trip into town and they had been searching over the list of names since them.

"Come on, Dean. We're almost finished," Reggie said, stifling a yawn. Sam had left almost a half hour ago on an errand to get them something to eat. Dean was sure Sam was delaying his return, hoping they would be finished by the time he got back.

"I don't care, I can't take another minute. I'm done!"

He flopped onto his back on his bed and glared at the ceiling.

He still had a dull headache from the night before, providing a steady drum in his temples and behind his eyes. Dean had had to reread the list three times looking for the last name Reggie had given him, the black words blurring together as he tried to search out Hilda Bradley in the sea of names. He closed his eyes, trying to relax against the pounding in his head. Dean heard Reggie sigh and put down her pen.

A few seconds later, Dean felt the bed beside him shift under her weight. "Still got your headache, huh?" she asked. He opened his eyes and turned his head, meeting the gaze of her piercing green eyes as she lay beside him. He matched his breathing to hers and smiled at her.

"It's nothing," he lied.

Reggie frowned at him and shifted slightly. Dean could feel the warmth of her skin against his as their arms touched and her continued stare on his face. Reggie's eyes drooped closed, her breathing slowed, and Dean watched as the woman drifted peacefully off to sleep.

* * *

Dean wasn't sure how long they lay there, or even sure when he himself had fallen asleep, when he heard the motel room door open. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he tried to clear the sleep from them, and sat up. Sam was struggling through the door, his hands full. Dean got up quickly and took a bag from him.

"Thanks," Sam said before Dean shushed him. He pointed back at Reggie, who was still fast asleep and raised a finger to his lips. Sam nodded at him and gently closed the door.

"What time is it?" Dean asked, keeping his voice low.

"Almost seven," Sam whispered back. He reached into the bag, wincing as it crackled loudly around his hand, and pulled out a large Styrofoam container. He handed it to Dean and reached back inside the bag. "Did you guys finish the list?"

Dean shook his head, chuckling as Sam confirmed his earlier suspicions. "No, there's still a few more names left to check. Why don't you get to work while I eat," Dean said as he took the plastic fork Sam had just unwrapped out of his brother's hand and went to sit on the empty bed.

Sam groaned and sat down heavily on one of the chairs, pulling over the two piles in front of him. He looked at Dean for a second, hopeful that his brother would offer to help. Dean just shook his head and shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth, chewing deliberately. Sam frowned at him, picked up a pen, and began scanning the pages for the next name on the list.

* * *

Dean ate slowly, not really hungry. The spaghetti felt heavy in his stomach and, after only consuming a third of what was in the container, he closed the lid and put it down on the bed beside him. Sam was still engrossed in the lists and he didn't want to risk waking Reggie up with the television, so he got up and grabbed his jacket.

"I'm gonna go for a walk or something," Dean said, keeping his voice low.

Sam looked up at him for a second.

"Okay."

He stared at Dean, trying to read his brother's face, then shrugged and went back to work. Dean stepped out into the cold night and closed the door gently behind him.

Taking a deep breath, he started across the muddy parking lot, heading for the stone picnic tables set on the edge of the woods. Halfway there, he changed his mind and headed for the Impala. A drive in his car always helped to clear his head. Dean pulled out of the lot onto the deserted highway and began driving east, no particular destination in mind.

Most of the previous night was still a haze and that bothered Dean. He remembered the blonde woman that Reggie had identified as a ghoul being there, but it was as if she'd been in the background. He couldn't remember her completely, her face a fuzzy blur.

"I should have known she wasn't human when she said that shit band was actually good," Dean grumbled.

As he drove, a steady rain began to fall again. Within minutes, visibility became so poor that Dean had no choice but to pull onto the shoulder of the road and wait for the rain to slow. He turned off the engine and relaxed back against the seat, listening to the rain pound against the Impala's roof. He was staring out the windshield, watching as the rain ran down in streams, when suddenly he remembered something about the night before.

Dean looked around, vaguely recognizing the spot he was parked in and the conversation he'd had with Reggie. He groaned and hit his hands on the steering wheel at the memory. Dean thought he finally understood why Reggie had been looking at him the way she had earlier that morning. She'd felt pity for him after he'd broken down in front of her. Dean cursed at himself and started the car, the Impala's engine roaring into the silent night. He turned around and headed back to the motel.


	10. Chapter 9

**Nine**

A spring dug painfully into her back causing Reggie to roll over onto her side as she tried to get away from it. The movement was enough to jog her brain and her eyes snapped open. Sam sat at the small dining table by the motel room window, bent over the information Reggie had gotten earlier that day.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep. She cleared her throat and sat up.

"A little before nine," Sam replied. He put down his pen and looked at Reggie, giving her a small smile. "You sleep okay?"

Reggie nodded and looked around. "Where's Dean?"

"He said he was going for a walk, but I think I heard the Impala pull out. I guess he went for a drive instead." Sam stretched and his back cracked, stiff from having been huddled over for so long. "There's food over here if you're hungry," Sam said, pointing to a paper bag sitting on the chair across from him.

Reggie yawned and got up, her stomach growling. It reminded her that it had been a while since the last time she ate. Thoroughly hungry now, she opened the bag and pulled out a clear plastic container filled with salad. She set it aside and started searching through the other containers. After finding a turkey sandwich and a fork, Reggie sat down to eat.

"This is really good," she said, swallowing down a large bite of sandwich.

Sam smiled at her and handed her a can of soda. "I tried to get an assortment of food since I wasn't exactly sure what you like."

"I'm not too picky," Reggie said and took another bite of the sandwich. She pointed to the list in front of Sam and swallowed. "How many do we have?"

Sam glanced down at the list and grimaced. "So far, thirty-two and I'm not even done yet."

Reggie shook her head and sighed. "It's going to take too long to find all those people." She put her fork down and reached across the table, pulling the list over to her. "If we can just find the one from last night, she can lead us back to the rest of them."

Just then, the door opened and Reggie and Sam looked up as Dean stepped inside. Water ran down his face from his dark blonde hair and he stomped past them to the bathroom to grab a towel. Dean peeled off his jacket, draped it over the top of the door to dry, and finally looked at Sam and Reggie.

"What?" he snapped, feeling uncomfortable under their stares.

"Nothing," Sam replied hastily.

Dean grunted and sat down on his bed, rubbing the towel over his wet hair. Sam and Reggie exchanged a quick glance and Sam took the list from her, going back to work. When Dean looked over at them, Reggie was staring intently into her salad, pushing the leaves around with the plastic fork.

"So what've you got?" Dean asked, trying to fill the silence.

"I was just telling Reggie that there are thirty-two names on the "Possibles" list so far. I still have another twenty names to check."

"The damn freaks are going to be finished with this town by the time we get through all of them," Dean growled, getting up and walking over to peer over Sam's shoulder. "There has to be something easier."

"I hate to admit it, but we may have to go with your plan after all, Dean," Sam said, sighing as he pushed the list away again. "Drawing one of them out with bait might be the only way to get them all."

"I knew sooner or later, you'd come around," Dean said, grinning at them. Reggie rolled her eyes and Sam groaned.

"I still think it's a bad idea," she grumbled. "But if we're going to do this, we're going to go in with a solid plan." Dean nodded and continued to dry off.

"I think we should try the bar. See if the one from last night shows up again," Sam suggested. He glanced up at his brother, already expecting that Dean had his own idea in mind.

"I think I should be the bait," Dean declared. Sam and Reggie both shook their heads at him, ready to argue, but Dean held up his hand. "Look, she was interested last night so why wouldn't she be again tonight?"

"I might have a better idea," Reggie stated. Sam and Dean both looked at her, waiting. "Ghoul-girl watched you leave with me, Dean. If you're right, and she knows I saw what she is, then she'll be expecting a trap. If we show up at the bar tonight she'll know we're looking for her."

"So what's your plan, then? Wait for her to take some other poor soul?" Dean snapped. He couldn't help thinking about the person who may have been taken last night. It made him angry to consider some innocent man had taken his place.

"No. That's not safe enough," Reggie replied, shaking her head. "If we set up surveillance and wait for her to slip off with a new victim, we take the risk the ghoul will kill them if she spots us."

"Okay, that's true, but what other choice do we have?" Sam asked.

"I want you to agree to my plan first before I tell you," Reggie declared, crossing her arms over her chest, waiting for them to respond.

"No way," Dean objected. "I want to hear it first before I agree to anything."

"Then I guess we're going to be sitting here for a while, because I'm not saying another word until you do."

Dean looked to Sam for help. His brother looked resigned and it made Dean even more irritated.

"Sam, you can't seriously be considering agreeing?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess I am."

Dean huffed and threw his hands in the air. "Fine, all right, you win. What's your freakin' plan?"

Reggie smirked at him and dropped her hands onto the table. "I'm the bait," she stated simply.

"No way!" Sam and Dean both cried in unison.

Reggie held up her hands, waving for them to calm down. "Wait, wait. Just listen to me for a minute. If the ghoul really does know that I saw her true form then she'll be looking for me. You said so yourself, Dean. Why not make it easier for her to find me?"

"That is the worst, most idiotic idea you've probably ever had, Reggie," Dean yelled.

"Come on, Dean. Just a second ago, you were willing to dangle on a hook for this bitch yourself? I'm just suggesting we use a different worm."

"She's got a point, man," Sam said. He instantly raised his hands protectively as Dean spun on him. "We can stick close enough to keep an eye on her. Make sure that if something goes wrong, she can get out safely."

Dean shook his head. "It's not an option. You're not doing this," Dean snapped, glaring at Reggie.

"Yes, I am. You already agreed, remember?" Reggie fought to hold off the grin pulling at her lips, knowing she would be victorious.

Dean continued to glare at her. "That's because you wouldn't tell us _**unless**_ we agreed first. You knew I wouldn't like your plan." He could sense the argument was already lost, but refused to give up.

Reggie shrugged nonchalantly. "Because I knew how you'd react. You have to admit that it makes sense, Dean." He vehemently shook his head at her and she laughed. "It was you're plan in the first place."

"No. _**M**__**y**_ plan was for me to be the bait, not you!"

"But your plan won't work anymore. We have to adjust, adapt to the situation. I know you can see that, even if you don't want to admit it."

"Why do you insist on putting yourself in danger?" Dean growled.

"Danger's the name of the game, Dean." Reggie grinned at him and got up from her chair. "There would be just as much risk if I was doing this job on my own. Maybe more so." She placed her hand on his arm. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm glad you two are the ones who are going to be watching my back."

Dean sighed, finally surrendering. "It doesn't, but thanks."

* * *

The road wound to the right ahead of them and Dean sped up, not wanting to lose sight of the Plymouth's taillights. "Easy, Dean. We don't want the ghouls to spot us and blow everything." Sam glanced at his brother. He saw Dean consider what he said for a second, before finally easing off the Impala's gas pedal.

The car slowed and the distance between them and Reggie stretched. Sam pulled out his penlight and opened up a small map he'd gotten the last time he was in the library.

"It's pretty much a straight shot into town now." He traced the thin blue line of Highway 81 with his finger.

"Do you think they'll try something before we get there?" Dean asked. His hands began to itch in anticipation and he rubbed them on the steering wheel.

"I don't know. I think Reggie's right and they'll be expecting a trap. They might decide to be preemptive or they might wait it out. See what Reggie does first and react."

"I still think this is too risky."

"Reggie knows what she's doing, man. She'll be fine."

Sam realized he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was Dean. They drove in silence for a while, letting the space between them and Reggie grow until the taillights of her car were mere pinpricks in the distance. As they drove into the center of town, Dean slammed on his brakes.

"Where the hell did she go?" he snapped, looking around for the Plymouth.

Sam scanned the streets, looking for any sign of the woman or her car. "I don't know. Keep driving down the main street. She couldn't have gotten too far."

A few minutes later, they finally spotted the dark blue car parked on a side road, the engine still running. Dean pulled up behind it and got out, his stomach like heavy stone. When the driver's side door opened and Reggie got out, he exhaled and relaxed.

"I'm going to head over to the bar for a little bit," Reggie said as Dean and Sam walked towards her. "Check out the scene and see if I spot our friend."

Dean nodded. "Sam and I will split up and cover both sides, then. That way, if she decides to bail when she sees you, we'll be there to catch her." Reggie nodded and climbed back into the Plymouth. Dean and Sam walked back to the Impala and pulled back out onto the main street.

"Do you really think splitting up is a wise idea?" Sam asked as Dean drove slowly down the road. "We don't even know that the ghoul last night was alone."

"Would you rather sit in the car and wait?" Dean asked, pulling up to the curb a block away from the bar and cutting the engine.

"No, not really," Sam relented. They got out and jogged across the street.

Once they were close enough to hear the music playing inside the bar, Dean signaled to Sam and disappeared, heading around to the back of the building. Sam continued walking, pretending like he was just casually passing by. When he was sure there was no one outside in the parking lot, he crouched down and weaved through the lot between the parked cars until he had the perfect hidden vantage point to the front door.

* * *

Dean stepped into the dark alleyway behind the bar and pressed himself against the brick wall of the building beside it. He pulled his Colt .45 from where it was tucked, against his back in the waist of his jeans, and chambered a round. Making his way down the alley, Dean stepped over sodden cardboard boxes and garbage, before coming to a stop beside a large green dumpster. From there, he could see the bar's rear exit perfectly, and he leaned against the wall to wait.

It seemed like Dean had been waiting for hours when a figure stepped out of the exit. Dean lifted the hand holding his gun and thumbed the safety off. Crouching behind the dumpster, Dean listened to the approaching footsteps. The bartender from the night before stumbled past him and Dean eased back into the darkness, slipping the safety back on. He watched as the man weaved his way down the alley to the main street, disappearing around the corner.

* * *

Reggie stood at the bar, tapping her fingers on its top. She searched through the sea of people around her, trying to spot the woman from last night. So far she'd had no luck. She had been in the bar only twenty minutes, but it felt like much longer, the tension seeping into every muscle of her body.

Reggie was just about to take another stroll around the bar when the blonde spiky-haired guy from the night before materialized beside her, his face lit up in a wide grin.

"Hey there," he shouted, trying to be heard over the blaring music.

Reggie nodded and forced herself to smile back. "Hi."

"I didn't think I would see you here tonight."

"Well, here I am," Reggie said. She stood on her tip-toes, craning her neck in an attempt to see around the man's lanky frame.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He waved at the bartender without waiting for Reggie's reply.

"No, I'm good, thanks."

"Come on? One drink?" He pouted his lips at her, his blue eyes a stark contrast to his light complexion. He placed a hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer, still smiling at her.

Reggie'd had enough. "Listen...Doug, wasn't it?" The man nodded at her. "Well, Doug. You see...I'm a little busy right now. Perhaps another time?" She pushed his arm away and tried to shove past him. Doug grabbed her arm above the elbow in an iron grip and yanked her back in front of him.

"I really think you should stay and have a drink," he hissed, his smile becoming twisted and menacing.

Reggie reacted instantly, kicking her foot out and connecting with the shin of his left leg. Doug stumbled backwards and she used his momentum to break free of his grip, shoving him with her other hand to keep him moving away from her. A few patrons cried out as Doug bumped into them and one man, heavy-set with a long gray beard and several tattoos on his neck, shoved Doug back into the bar.

Reggie skirted out of the way and disappeared into the crowd, heading for the bathroom. She was just passing the pool tables when she spotted a woman with blonde hair talking to a short, black haired man dressed in a white polo shirt. She had her back to Reggie, her face hidden. Reggie immediately changed direction and headed for the blonde. As she got closer, she recognized the voice.

"Adrianne?" The woman turned and smiled at Reggie.

"Hey Reggie. I didn't think I would see you here tonight," Adrianne said.

"I was just looking for someone. I'm not planning on staying. What are you doing here?"

Adrianne shrugged and glanced around sheepishly. "I was actually looking for Sam," she finally admitted.

Reggie chuckled and shook her head. "I should have guessed you'd go for a guy like him."

"Have you seen him around?" Adrianne peered around Reggie, scanning the crowded room.

"Nope, sorry."

"I bet you've seen Dean, though," Adrianne said, raising her eyebrow and grinning at Reggie. Reggie blinked at her, confused. Then she realized the reason for the look Adrianne was giving her.

"Oh...no. Nothing happened. I just gave him a ride back to his motel."

"Sure," Adrianne giggled.

"How'd you know we left together last night, anyway?"

"I have my sources." Adrianne laughed and Reggie smiled awkwardly at her. "This is a small town, Reggie. People gossip. Especially about anybody new."

"Sam said you weren't feeling too well last night," Reggie said, changing the subject.

"Yeah. I had started to feel a little ill, but I'm fine now."

"Good, I'm glad." Reggie started scanning the crowd again, keeping an eye out for Doug as well as Dean's blonde friend. Adrianne glanced back at the man in the polo shirt, who was watching the two of them talk while he sipped his beer.

"Listen, I hate to bail on you, but that guy over there..."

"Don't worry about it, I understand. Besides, I told you, I'm just in here looking for someone. Go. Have fun." Reggie gently pushed Adrianne away, smiling at her.

"Talk to you later," Adrianne called over her shoulder as she walked back to the guy in the polo shirt. Reggie scanned the room again and spotted Doug making his way through the crowd toward the dartboard area. He had his arm draped over a tall red-headed girl who was smiling up at him as they walked.

"Didn't take you long," Reggie mumbled to herself. She decided to check out the bathrooms anyway and continued to make her way through the crowd. Reggie pushed open the door and stepped into the small bathroom.

The smell of disinfectant and perfume hung heavy in the small space and Reggie gagged at the overpowering odors. The room was empty, the music dulled greatly by the heavy door. Reggie stood at one of the sinks, looking at her reflection in the mirrored wall. Her green eyes looked bright without the red tinge of weariness she had become accustomed to seeing lately.

She yanked the hair tie out of her hair, letting it fall lose around her shoulders. Running her fingers through the curls to get out a few tangles, Reggie was just about to pull her hair back up when the bathroom door opened and a petite blonde woman walked into the room. Reggie recognized her as one of Dean's groupies from the night before. She glared at Reggie, obviously recognizing her too.

"Hi," Reggie said, giving the woman a small smile. She nodded back at Reggie, but didn't respond.

The woman strolled over to the sink next to Reggie and stared into the mirror, leaning forward to fix a smudge in her mascara. The light green top she was wearing pulled up from the waist of her skintight black pants and Reggie caught a glimpse of a tattoo at the base of her back. The symbol appeared to be some kind of Egyptian hieroglyph.

"I like your tattoo."

The woman glanced over at Reggie, then rolled her eyes back to her reflection. "Thanks."

"Does it mean something?"

"Yes," she answered curtly. The woman was clearly trying to remain oblivious to Reggie's presence. Reggie shrugged and turned to leave when the door opened again and one of the girl's friends entered.

"Sorry," Reggie muttered, taking a step back so that the girl could go by.

It all happened so fast; one minute, Reggie was stepping out of the girl's way and the next, she was flying backwards through the air She slammed into one of the bathroom stall doors and hit the cold tile floor, landing on her side. She cried out, more in shock than actual pain. Reggie started to pick herself up when she was hard kicked in the ribs, knocking the wind out of her. She rolled onto her back, gasping for air, and found herself face to face with the first blonde.

"Did we hurt you?" she hissed, grabbing Reggie's shirt in both hands and yanking her to her feet.

The woman slammed Reggie into the bathroom's cement wall and held her there. Both girls closed their eyes and inhaled deeply, breathing through their noses. The one holding Reggie opened her eyes, revealing crimson irises, and sneered.

"Not scared yet?" she asked. The woman tossed Reggie like a rag doll into the mirrored wall. It shattered from the impact and, as Reggie hit the floor, she was showered with falling glass. This time, it was the second woman who picked Reggie up and slammed her into the broken mirror.

"We know who you are, hunter," she hissed, her crimson eyes alight with rage.

"And I know _**what**_ you are, bitch," Reggie spat. The woman backhanded Reggie across the face in a flash of movement.

"I still can't smell her properly," the first woman whined, appearing at her friend's side in an instant. "Why aren't you scared?" she asked, stroking Reggie's cheek with a long, cold finger.

Reggie laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you, but you're just a bunch of ugly bitches to me." She cried out as her head rocked back, ricocheting off the cement wall, as she was hit again.

"You have such a naughty tongue. I think it'll be the first thing I cut off when we start to eat you," the second blonde hissed.

Reggie blinked, trying to clear the stars from her eyes and saw the first woman raise her hand, palm up. She blew a dust into her face and Reggie could smell lilies and chrysanthemum flowers mingled with a strange spice and decay as the room dimmed around her.

"Cassandra will be pleased it was this easy," Reggie heard the woman say just before everything went dark.


	11. Chapter 10

**Ten**

Sam's thighs burned in protest as he remained crouched, hidden behind a red Coupe. He tried to shift, allowing the weight of his body to be distributed more evenly through his tired legs, but instantly regretted it as a cramp seized his left calf and he tumbled backwards, landing on his butt. Cold moisture from the earlier rain began to instantly soak the seat of his jeans and he cursed at himself.

Sam pushed himself up and started brushing the dirt off his backside with his hands. The door to the bar opened and voices carried across the parking lot to him making him quickly duck behind the nearest car. He pulled out his Taurus nine millimeter, checking to make sure there was a bullet chambered and the safety was off, as the voices grew louder.

Sam peered over the back of the car and saw a man with his arm around a pretty red-head making their way through the parked cars. He recognized the guy from the night before; the spiky-haired blonde Reggie had used to try and distract Dean during their pool game. The girl's high pitched laughter carried to Sam as she giggled at what the man was whispering in her ear. Seconds later, they climbed into a flashy black BMW and sped out of the lot.

Sam relaxed against the side of the sedan he'd hidden behind and thumbed the gun's safety back on. He had just settled into a new spot to watch the bar's front door when he heard footsteps coming up from behind him. Sam spun and spotted Dean weaving through the lot.

"Sammy?" Dean called, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Over here," Sam called back and raised his hand to wave at his brother. Dean nodded and made his way over.

"Seen anything?" Dean asked when he finally reached Sam's side.

Sam shook his head. "No, nothing. You?"

"Well, the bartender from last night can't hold his liquor. Aside from that, nadda." He glanced at the bar entrance. "Do you think we should go inside and find Reggie?"

"Give her some more time. If we go in there, it's just going to piss Reggie off and make her think we don't trust her on her own."

"But we don't trust her on her own," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You might not, Dean, but I do. You really need to give her more credit than you do. She knows what she's doing. She did save your ass last night after all." Dean glared at Sam before shoving him. Sam lost his balance and landed on his butt again. "Did I hit a nerve?" he laughed.

"Just shut it, Sam." The door of the bar opened and both men looked up. A petite blonde woman exited and headed off towards the street, humming to herself. "I'm going to go inside and see if I can find Reggie."

"I think we should wait a little longer."

"Okay, you wait here. I'm going inside," Dean stated and disappeared around the side of the car.

"Dean!" Sam hissed after him. His brother jogged across the lot, ignoring him, and strolled into the bar. "Dammit!" Sam rolled his eyes and stood up. "Reggie's going to kill us," he mumbled as he hurried across the lot to the bar.

It seemed to be more crowded than the night before, making it impossible for Sam to spot even Dean amongst all the people. He made his way to the bar, hoping to find at least one of them there. Sam stepped up and waved at the bartender. Tonight it was a short balding man who appeared to be in his late forties. He acknowledged Sam with a nod, finished filling two glasses of beer, and made his way over.

"What can I getcha?" the man asked, pulling a glass from under the counter and pouring a scotch for the brunette woman sitting next to Sam.

"I actually just wanted to ask if you remembered seeing a woman about five foot four with reddish brown hair in here tonight?"

"With piercing green eyes, wearing a dark blue shirt?"

"Yeah, that would be her. Do you know where she went?"

"Last time I saw her, she was making a B-line for the bathroom." The bartender pointed in the direction of the pool tables. "She was trying to get away from a guy who got a little handsy with her. Haven't seen her since, though."

Sam nodded, scanning the crowd again. "How about a guy a little shorter than me with short, dark blonde hair dressed in a brown leather jacket?"

"Nope, sorry. Doesn't sound familiar." The guy started to walk away and Sam held up his hand.

"One more?" Sam decided to try for three. "Did you maybe see a woman, blonde hair and bright blue eyes?"

"Son, that describes about half the ladies I seen in here tonight. You gotta be more specific."

"She was kind of busty?" Sam was struggling, trying to remember something more about the woman.

The bartender laughed. "If that's all you got, then I'm going to have to tell you no. Sorry. There are just too many woman in this bar that fit that vague description."

Sam nodded and shrugged. "Thanks anyway." He turned and began scanning the crowd again.

He spotted Dean a few seconds later, heading in the direction of the pool tables. Sam tried to push his way through, calling his brother's name, but Dean kept walking, obviously unable to hear Sam over the loud, pounding music. Sam continued to push his way through towards Dean's retreating back. He was only a few steps away when a large, black haired man stepped in front of Sam, blocking his path.

"Excuse me," Sam said, trying to step around him. The man ignored Sam as he continued to stand in his way. By the time Sam was able to force his way around the man, Dean was gone again. "Shit!" Sam snapped.

It appeared like Dean had been heading in the direction the bartender had pointed out to Sam as the way to the bathrooms so Sam decided he would keep going in that direction and hope to find Dean on the way. When Sam finally made it over to the bathrooms, he found himself at the end of a very long line.

"What's going on?" he asked the woman ahead of him.

"I heard someone say that the ladies room's been vandalized. So I guess now we all have to use the men's bathroom," she responded.

Sam nodded absently at her and started walking up the line. A few people cried out, thinking he was cutting, but Sam ignored them.

A sick feeling crept into Sam's stomach as he got closer to the front of the line. The woman's bathroom door stood open and glass from the broken mirrored wall lay everywhere. Sam noticed a few spots of blood, not enough to indicate a serious injury, on the white tile floor.

A man with white hair, wearing tan pants and a light blue, collared shirt, stood just inside the bathroom. He was talking to a stocky man in green coveralls in hushed tones, anger making his pale face bright red.

"What do you mean you called the cops, Carlos?" the white haired man snapped as Sam stepped into the bathroom. Both men looked up at his entrance and the one in the coveralls, Carlos, stepped forward, ushering Sam back out.

"Excuse me, sir, but you can't come in here."

"It's okay, I'm a detective," Sam said, pulling out his wallet and flashing one of the badges he and Dean had forged to match the alias' Reggie had given them the day before. "What happened in here?" Sam bent down to take a closer look at the drops of blood on the floor.

"Not really sure. A patron found the room like this about ten minutes ago," the white haired man said, rubbing his temples as if to ward off a headache.

"I'd like to talk to her for a minute. Do you know where she is?"

"I have her waiting in my office," the white haired man said and motioned for Sam to follow him. "I'm Bart by the way, Bart Madison. This is my bar." They reached Bart's office and the man held the door open for Sam. Sam looked around and turned back to Bart. The room stood empty.

"I thought you said...?"

"I left her in here, I swear I did," Bart cried. "Where the hell did she go?" Bart began searching the office as if the woman had simply decided to hide behind the filing cabinets or bookshelves.

The sick feeling began to grow. "Do you remember exactly what she said to you?" Sam asked.

"She said she found the bathroom all messed up," Bart snapped, pushing aside the small office chair to look under the desk. "I don't really remember her exact words since I was more concerned about the damage to my bar."

"What about what she looked like? Do you remember that?"

"Blonde, pretty. I think she had on a pink dress." Bart dropped into the chair and put his head in his hands. "It's gonna cost me a fortune to fix that mirror," he whined.

Sam quickly realized the man wasn't going to give him anything more and decided he needed to get back to the bathroom. "Thank you, Mr. Madison," he said and slipped out of the office.

Sam made his way back through the bar to the bathrooms. The heavy metal door was closed now, blocking off curious bystanders, and Carlos had apparently found some tape to cross off the doorway to stop people from going inside. Sam pushed open the door, ducking under the tape. The man had also attempted to sweep up, but there was still a lot of glass scattered around the room.

It was apparent there had been quite a commotion and Sam wondered why no one had heard it. He stopped in the middle of the room and listened, quickly realizing why. He could barely hear the busy bar once the door was closed.

"What the hell happened in here," he muttered to himself. A sinking feeling told him he already knew the answer and that he needed to find Dean, soon.

Sam opened the bathroom door and was just ducking back under the tape when a red smear caught his eye. He bent down and dabbed his finger in it. Right away he recognized that it was more blood and saw that a trail led off towards the back of the bar. Sam followed it all the way to the rear exit and pushed open the door, stepping out onto steel steps in a dark alley. He walked down the steps, his heavy footfalls echoing ominously.

Sam pulled out his penlight and began walking down the alleyway towards the street, stepping over sodden cardboard boxes and trash. As he made his way past a dirty green dumpster halfway down the alley, his foot hit something hard on the ground. He bent down, shining his light on the object. Sam's stomach dropped as he recognized Dean's Colt lying on the ground before him. He picked it up, staring at it as if it were an alien being, then looked around.

The alley was completely quiet, completely deserted. Sam shone the light up and down the alley and his light caught something else, something shiny, a few feet away. He hurried down to the glittering object and picked it up, the Impala's keys cold and wet from the puddle they had fallen into.

"Dean?" Sam yelled, spinning on the spot. He ran to the end of the alley, his chest constricting painfully, and out onto the street beside the bar. "Dean?" Sam yelled again, his voice choked with panic. Sam already knew his brother wasn't going to answer.

* * *

Dean knew he needed to open his eyes, knew there was a reason why he should want to open them, but he couldn't figure out what that reason was. His head hurt and his mouth was dry, making him feel like he was hung over all over again. He knew he hadn't had anything stronger than a Coke to drink since Reggie had given him that little bit of whiskey earlier that morning.

Her name seemed to jog something in Dean's memory. A vague recollection of shapes and sounds. Dean slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a large room. It was bare except for a metal table about five feet away from him and what appeared to be shackles bolted into the wall opposite that.

Dean tried to push himself up off the floor and found that he couldn't. He turned his head, his vision going hazy for a moment, and saw that there were shackles around his wrists that chained him to the wall.

"Hello?" Dean tried to call out, his voice hoarse and broken. He winced as the effort made his head pound. As if it were a dream, Dean remembered being hit on the head by something cold and hard. Details began to trickle forward into his consciousness and suddenly Dean remembered everything.

He'd entered the bar looking for Reggie and had overheard two patrons talking about a mess in the women's bathroom. Immediately, Dean had headed in that direction, a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. What he found in the bathroom had turned that nagging into full fledge dread.

The women's bathroom had been trashed, the mirrored wall above the sinks shattered, a stall door dented and broken off its hinges. Dean had spotted a light trail of blood on the floor and had followed it to the door leading into the alley behind the bar; the very alley he had been in not that long ago. Just as he was walking down the steps, a silver Mercedes pulled up at the end of the alleyway and Dean saw a woman get out from behind the wheel.

As he started forward, suspicious of the car and its driver, Dean saw another figure step out from the darkness. He could tell it was a woman by her build and that she was carrying something. Dean had only taken a few more steps when he realized what the woman was actually holding; Reggie lay unconscious in her arms.

Dean yelled at them and started running down the alley, pulling out his gun. He wanted to shoot at the woman, but was afraid he might hit Reggie by accident. The one carrying Reggie continued towards the car, ignoring Dean, as the driver stepped forward to block his path.

Dean aimed his gun and was just about to press the trigger when he was hit with such force that the gun flew out of his hand. He slammed into the stone wall and hit the cold ground on all fours. Dean looked up just as the driver, the pretty blonde he and Sam had watched walk out of the bar earlier, bent down and punched him in the jaw. He saw stars before the blackness of unconsciousness overtook him.

Now that Dean remembered what had happened, he had an idea of where he might be. He glanced around and saw the door across from him open. A tall, slender woman with white blonde hair and pale skin entered the room and strolled toward him.

"I'm glad you're awake. I was worried Elisa had hit you too hard," she said, her voice soft and melodious.

"Why would that matter?" Dean asked. "I'd have thought you'd consider it tenderizing."

"We prefer our meals to be awake. At least, as long as we can keep them that way. It helps with the experience, the smell of your human fear. Adds to the flavor."

She bent down and stroked his cheek with one long, thin finger. Her skin was ice cold against Dean's and he shuddered involuntarily. The woman smiled, her red eyes flashing at him.

"I was surprised to hear you were taken so easily, Dean. After all I've heard about you Winchesters, I thought you would have been more of a challenge."

Dean stared at her, shocked. "I don't think that's very fair," Dean stated, thinking fast and trying to cover the jolt of fear her knowledge of his identity gave him

"What's that?" she asked. She continued to touch him, tracing her finger along his jaw.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours." Dean tried to pull his head away from the woman. "You freaks do _**have**_ names, don't you?"

She smiled down at him and patted his face. "I've been going by Cassandra Levy for the last fifty years or so. But I've had so many names, lived so many lives."

Dean snorted and shook his head. "I would have gone with lived so many lies and eaten so many lives, but, hey, whatever works for you." He smirked up at the woman, watching as the smile faltered on her face.

"You have a smart mouth on you. Didn't your father ever teach you to mind your elders?" The smile returned when she saw Dean flinch at her words. "Yes, as I said, I have heard a lot about you and your family. About your father's quest for vengeance and his sacrifice for you. About Sam and his…gifts. About how you came back from hell and what you did while you were down there."

Cassandra ran the finger of her left hand down Dean's chest. He could feel her frigid touch through his dark gray t-shirt.

"When I realized there was a hunter in town, I started doing my own research. Trying to figure out just who it was that was here to hunt my family. But then you and Sam showed up, too. It intrigued me, the stories attached to the Winchester name."

She bent lower, her face only inches from Dean. Her breath was cold and smelled of rot, making Dean gag. He tried to pull away from her, but she grabbed a handful of his hair in her hand and held his face still. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose.

"You really have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, do you?" she asked, her eyes flashing open.

It was then that Dean saw her true form and it made him cringe. Her skin was old, bluish-gray, and stretched. Thin pink lips pulled back to reveal sharp pearly white teeth as the creature before him smiled.

"You are one ugly…"

She hit Dean across the face, cutting him off mid-sentence. He could taste blood in his mouth from the blow. Dean turned to face her, smirking.

"What'd I say?"

Cassandra glared at Dean, her long, thin fingers clenched into fists, her gray chest heaving in anger. Then she relaxed and the façade returned. Dean could only see the pretty blonde woman who had entered the room. She raised her finger and waved it at him.

"Tsk-tsk. That was very naughty, Dean."

The door opened again and Dean peered around Cassandra. The two woman from the alleyway strolled into the room wearing identical grins as they took in the sight before them. Cassandra nodded at them and turned back to Dean.

"Your friend has presented us with a rather unique problem."

"Really?"

"Yes, if you remember, I said that your fear adds a distinctive taste. A taste we are quite fond of. Now, I'm not sure if she's brave, stupid, or just plain crazy, but she just won't cooperate."

"Gee, I'm sorry about that. Maybe you should let me talk to her," Dean replied snidely.

"Oh, I intend to. See, you're going to be part of a little experiment."

Cassandra stood up and snapped her fingers. The two women waiting by the door darted over, moving so fast Dean barely caught the movement with his eyes. They gripped his head and blew a fine dust into his face. The last thing Dean saw was one of the women, dressed in a green top over tight, black pants unfastening his hands, her long pointed nails moving delicately over his wrists.

* * *

Sam floored the gas pedal of the Impala, the speedometer needle inching towards ninety. He was racing down the dark highway, heading back to the motel. He needed to call Bobby, find out if the hunter had found anything more about the creatures that had taken Reggie and Dean.

Sam shuddered as he thought about what they could be going through at that very moment. He pulled into the motel parking lot and bolted from the car, slipping once in the muddy lot as he raced to his room. Sam yanked the key out of his pocket and stepped inside the room, flipping on the lights as he grabbed the phone off the nightstand. He dialed and waited, holding his breath. Bobby answered on the third ring. "Hel-lo?"

"Bobby, it's Sam. We've got a problem."


	12. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

Sam had quickly explained to Bobby what happened; how Dean and Reggie were missing, presumably taken by the ghouls. Now he sat in the motel room anxiously waiting for the man to arrive. Bobby had promised Sam that he had the information needed to get Dean and Reggie back safely but had refused to give anything to Sam until he got to Bridgewater.

"I don't want you runnin' in there half-cocked and get all three of ya killed," Bobby had stated. "Just wait there at the motel. I'll be there soon."

Sam stood at the window, looking out into the parking lot, too restless to sit down. Flurries had begun to fall as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Dean had been missing for only a few hours, but it seemed more like days. He'd gotten so used to his brother being around again and, despite whatever they may have said to each other in the last several months since Dean had come back from hell, Sam didn't want to go back to life without him.

"Where are you Bobby?" Sam muttered to himself.

As if in answer, headlights flooded the motel parking lot, and Sam recognized Bobby's beat up 1971 Chevelle as it pulled up alongside the Impala. He was through the door and out in the lot before the man even had a chance to turn off his car.

"Bobby."

"Hey Sam," Bobby replied, nodding at him solemnly. "Been waitin' by the door, I see." He moved around to the trunk of the Chevelle and Sam followed him. "You need to relax, kid. If you aren't focused you're gonna make mistakes and that ain't gonna help any of us."

"I'm focused," Sam snapped. He grabbed a heavy bag out of Bobby's hand and started back to the room.

"I know you're worried about 'em. I am too, but we have to take this one step at a time. We can't rush anythin' or we'll all end up dead." Bobby dropped a heavy metal box onto the dining table and opened the lid. Sam stared at the contents, confused.

"What are all these?" he asked, picking up a small vial filled with an opaque liquid.

"Essential oils, mostly. I use 'em for rituals and protection spells." Bobby took the vial out of Sam's hand and placed it back in the box. He withdrew another bottle, this one larger than the others, filled with a light amber colored liquid. "Put that on the middle of your forehead over your third eye," he instructed, handing the bottle to Sam and closing the box.

Sam unscrewed the lid and sniffed the contents. He winced back from the strong, bitter smell emanating from the bottle. "Gross. What is that?"

"It's Myrrh Oil. It's to open your eyes to the charms and shields these bastards use to hide behind. Just dab a few drops on your finger and rub it in. You'll get used to the smell in a bit."

Sam did as he was told and handed the bottle back to Bobby. After the hunter had tilted back his ball cap and rubbed his own forehead with the oil, he slipped the bottle into the breast pocket of the blue vest he was wearing. Bobby pulled the bag Sam had carried in up onto one of the chairs and began sorting through it, pulling out various long-handled blades.

"Start loadin' up on any blade you can carry. Bullets only slow 'em down, not kill 'em."

"So what are the knives for?" Sam asked, picking up a large curved sickle.

"Well, they're kinda like vampires, you gotta remove the head from the body. But unlike vampires, that don't kill 'em. You gotta douse the body in blessed Kyphi oil and burn it." Bobby pulled out a large canteen and handed it to Sam.

"Kyphi oil?"

"Egyptian oil normally used for aid with trances, but ghouls use it to create more ghouls. They mix it with lilies, chrysanthemum petals, and fresh human blood and once ingested, it turns a normal person into a ghoul. If it's blessed by an Egyptian High Priestess, though, the oil becomes like acid to their skin. It's the only thing that will destroy 'em."

Sam shook the canteen and heard the fluid sloshing around inside. He unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. "It smells nice, kind of like cinnamon rolls," Sam said. He put the canteen down on the table and picked up another knife, this one with a white pearl handle. "If ghouls are made, can they be unmade?

Bobby shook his head. "The process is irreversible. Once you ingest the potion, you change. There ain't no comin' back from that." Bobby turned to Sam and sighed. "Now, I'm guessin' you three were snoopin' around, tryin' to find a nice deserted place that these suckers might be holed up in?"

"Well, yeah. This empty house just outside of town. It's about twenty minutes from here."

Bobby shook his head. "If ya'd just waited for me to call, ya wouldn't be in this mess right now," he barked.

Sam gaped at him, confounded.

"That's where they got your scent."

"What are you talking about? The place was empty, Bobby. No one's been there for years."

"It wasn't empty, you idjit! It was cloaked. They were there, probably followin' you around, as you snooped behind musty old curtains and inside the rotted pantries. How long after you showed up at this house did the shit hit the fan?"

"Well, that night is when Dean almost went home with one," Sam replied. He gaped at Bobby as the realization hit him. "They were waiting for _**us**_ at the bar!"

"I know this is gonna be hard, Sam, but I want you to sit down and tell me everythin' that's happened since we last talked," Bobby instructed, pulling the empty dining chair out and pushing Sam's stunned body into it. Sam nodded at him and began to talk.

* * *

"Wakey wakey, Reggie," a soft voice cooed.

Reggie's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the glare of the bright lights above her head. She felt someone grab a clump of her hair, which still hung loose around her shoulders, and raise her head so that Reggie was now staring into the scarlet eyes of one of the two women who had attacked her in the bathroom at Madison's Bar. The muscles in Reggie's arms screamed, burning from her weight. She was suspended from the ceiling, her hands chained above her head.

"There you are," the woman purred. "Having pleasant dreams, I hope?"

"I was actually. I dreamt I killed your skanky ass," Reggie spat.

Her head rocked back as she was hit across the face, the woman moving so fast, Reggie hadn't even seen her raise her hand.

"Easy now, Elisa. We don't want to bruise the meat," a voice from behind Reggie scolded.

A tall, slender woman strolled up beside Reggie; the same woman who had tried to pick up Dean the night before.

"Hello, hunter," she hissed.

She raised a long, thin finger up to Reggie's cheek and traced the spot where Elisa had hit her. Reggie jerked her head back, trying to get out from under the woman's icy touch. The movement caused her to swing backwards, her bare toes just barely touching the cold stone floor.

"She needs to be taught some respect," Elisa said, pouting. "We should just cut out her tongue now."

"As tempting as that may be, if we remove her tongue, we will be denied the pleasure of hearing her scream later. Now, what would be the fun in that?" a third voice, male this time, purred.

"Too true, Alexander," Elisa smirked. A figure stepped out of the shadows and Reggie grunted.

"I should have known you were one of them, Doug," Reggie spat.

"If you were a better hunter, maybe you would have," the spiky-haired man said. "You have been quite a problem for us, Reggie. Quite a problem indeed."

"Let me down and I'll show you how big a problem I really can be."

All three of the ghouls laughed, the sound flat and emotionless as it echoed off the room's stone walls.

"We might just take you up on that offer. It's been such a long time since we've had a meal with such fight in it, such fire. You are a rather unique individual, Reggie," Alexander purred as he circled her.

"Really? How so?"

Reggie tried to shift, to lessen the strain in her burning muscles, but the movement only made it worse. She winced and suddenly felt cold lips at her throat. Reggie could hear the deep intake Alexander as he inhaled. She held perfectly still, holding her own breath and waited for the pain. A second later, he pressed his lips against her neck, kissing her gently just under her jaw, then stood up straight and smiled at Reggie. Reggie could smell the rot emanating from his breath.

"We are used to our food having a particular smell, a bouquet of distinctive scents, that add to the taste of the flesh. The most delicate and delectable scent is fear. Yet here you stand…well, hang really…smelling delicious, yes, but not as delicious as you should. There is no fear coming from you. Why? Do you not fear death?"

"Doesn't everybody?"

"We don't, no. We've lived for far too long, immortal as we are, to fear death any longer," the tall woman said, coming to stand beside Alexander. "You do understand that you are going to die, don't you?"

"Of course she does, Cassandra," Elisa purred from behind them.

Cassandra cast an angry glance over her shoulder and Elisa's eyes shot to the floor. Cassandra turned back to Reggie and smiled at her, the look twisted and hungry.

"If death doesn't scare you, then what does?"

"I'm afraid…afraid…" Reggie stuttered, hitching her breath.

"Yes?" Alexander prompted.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill every last one of you smelly, ugly, sons of…" Alexander grabbed Reggie's throat, choking her words off in mid sentence. He squeezed his hand, the cold hard flesh constricting around Reggie's warm throat.

"You may certainly try, pet," he hissed in her ear, before letting go. Reggie gasped for air, grimacing as she tasted the bitter, acrid flavor of death in the room. "But first, we want to perform a little experiment." He snapped his fingers and Elisa sped from the room, her movements blurred and quiet. Before the faded wooden door had a chance to close entirely, a new figure entered the room carrying what looked like a heavy black sack.

Reggie gasped as she recognized the person before her.

"Adrianne?"

The woman smiled at her, all human emotion gone from the gesture. Her blue eyes had been replaced with crimson ones.

"Adrianne is a newer addition to our little clan," Cassandra purred, flashing to Adrianne's side to assist her as she gently lowered the black bundle to the floor. "We decided she was much too precious to eat." Reggie stared at the woman who she had thought was a friend.

"It's lovely, all of it, Reggie. The only down side is I'm so hungry all the time," Adrianne groaned as she stared at Reggie, her eyes tracing every inch of her body eagerly. "It took all I had not to eat you the first day we met."

Alexander shook his head, chuckling dryly. "It's a skill, Adrianne. One you will learn to conquer in time," he stated.

Reggie realized he was holding on to another set of chains suspended from the ceiling about five feet from where she was hanging. Alexander turned to grin at Reggie and kicked the black bundle on the floor. There was a groan and the sack shifted.

"We have a little surprise for you," he purred and bent down, yanking back what Reggie now realized was just a black sheet, to reveal the half naked body of a man beneath it.

Reggie gasped and all three ghouls turned back to her, beaming. Cassandra yanked the body upright and held it there so that Adrianne could fasten the shackles dangling from the ceiling quickly around his wrists. The body groaned again and swayed from side to side like a pendulum.

"I was wondering…," Cassandra hissed as she appeared at Reggie's stunned side. "You may not fear your own death, but perhaps, you would fear someone else's?" She nodded at Alexander who stood by the newly hanging body and turned him around.

"Oh, god. Dean?" Reggie gasped. Dean's head lolled to the side and his eyes fluttered.

"He's still a little groggy from the dust we gave him, but I'm sure a little pain will bring him right around," Alexander growled and he raised one long, thin, sharp finger into the air.

"Don't touch him," Reggie snapped.

"I think you might have been right, Cassandra," Alexander chuckled, glancing at the statuesque woman. They all looked at Reggie, who was glaring at them ferociously, and laughed. "But let's be completely sure." He swiped his finger across the stretched, toned skin of Dean's stomach. Dean's eyes flashed open and he jerked backwards, crying out as the small gash began to ooze blood. Alexander licked the nail and smiled. "He tastes scrumptious."

"Don't - You - Touch - Him - Again!" Reggie screamed. All three ghouls stood watching Reggie struggle to get free, their laughter echoing off the walls.


	13. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

Bobby pulled the Chevelle onto the side of the road and turned off the engine. Sam twisted in the passenger seat and reached into the back, grabbing the bag he had helped Bobby pack. "How many do you think are in there?" he asked as he turned back to Bobby, pulling the bag into the front seat.

"Hard to say. They like to travel in packs, like vampires." Bobby opened the door and squinted across the road at the rusted, overgrown iron gate that surrounded the property. "Not exactly inconspicuous, is it?" Sam followed his gaze and shrugged.

They got out of the car, still gazing across the road. The sun shone high in the sky above them yet it hardly broke through the trees. Sam shivered as a gust of wind whipped around them and he raised the zipper on his jacket a little higher. Bobby sighed heavily and Sam looked over at him.

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"I'd feel better if I knew what exactly we're about to walk into. You know, just a little more time."

"We don't have time, Bobby. The ghouls have Dean and Reggie and are doing who knows what to them at this very moment. Every second we waste is another second they could be dying. _**This**_ is the plan we've got."

Sam shouldered the bag and started across the road. He heard Bobby sigh heavily again, then the sound of the man's footsteps following behind him. Sam led the way through the woods surrounding the large house, keeping to the outer lining of trees which would hide them from immediate view.

"You said these things don't really like the sunlight, right?"

"Yeah, it goes back to their origins. See, the ancient Egyptians worshipped Ra, the god of the Sun, and made sacrifices to him. The human kind of sacrifices. Lore goes that an alchemist, angry that his beloved wife was to be sacrificed to the god, created a potion to bring her back to life. The night after she died, he snuck into the temple and stole her body.

"The alchemist took her body back to his home and administered the potion. Ra, enraged that a sacrifice had been taken from his sacred temple, condemn the alchemist for his actions. The god stole the alchemist's wife soul, makin' sure that it would neither return to her body nor enter the afterlife. So when the potion revived the body, it came back inhuman."

"Sounds like a really bad Sci-Fi movie," Sam said, stopping at exactly the same spot he'd stood when he had been there with Reggie and Dean.

"It probably seemed like one too. Havin' your wife come back as this creature that craves blood and flesh," Bobby said, shuddering.

Sam knew what Bobby was thinking about; his wife. She had been possessed by a demon, and fearing for his own life, and not knowing at the time what was wrong with her, Bobby had killed her. The guilt of knowing what he knew now and how, if he'd only known it sooner, he may have been able to save his wife, fueled Bobby down the twisted path of becoming a hunter.

"Legend says that the alchemist tried to destroy the creature after realizin' it was not his wife, but it killed him instead and disappeared into the night, takin' with it all of the notes and recipes for his potions.

"For decades, the creature fed mainly on the flesh of the dead, preferrin' to remain hidden from both the livin' and the gods. A diet completely consistin' of death altered its body, turnin' the skin a bluish-gray and makin' it ice cold. As you already know, they have razor sharp teeth and claws and can move wickedly fast."

"If a ghoul started out eating dead bodies, why'd it change? Why'd they start taking live people and eating them like in some George A. Romero movie?" Sam asked. He dropped the duffle bag onto the ground and pulled out a long Bowie knife.

"Well, from what I've read, supposedly a person mournin' the loss of their loved one went into a graveyard where the ghoul had been feastin'. So insatiable was its hunger, that it attacked the poor soul, and ate 'em. The livin' flesh returned some of its former state, some of its more human characteristics. Reactivated its brain, in a way.

"With this newfound consciousness, the ghoul returned to its lair and began recreatin' some of the alchemist's potions. Eventually, the creature found the right combination to make more of its kind. They don't just eat the livin' because we taste better either. Eatin' us alive makes them stronger and faster, not to mention gives them their cloakin' abilities. Gives them those red eyes, too."

"The thing I don't get is the seven year gap. Why are they taking a specific amount of people during a specific amount of time and then stopping?"

Bobby shrugged. "I don't really know, Sam. My best guess is that they stick to a cycle to keep from bein' discovered. Or maybe it just has somethin' to do with the ritual that created the first ghoul." Bobby took the Bowie knife from Sam and tucked it into an inside vest pocket. "Whatever the reason, they've gotta be stopped."

Sam nodded at Bobby as he stood up. "You think Reggie and Dean are still alive, right?"

"Of course they are," Bobby snapped, hoping Sam hadn't noticed the hesitation in his response.

* * *

The floorboards creaked loudly under Sam's weight and he grimaced at the sound as it echoed through the old building. Sam and Bobby moved through the entryway into the living room, the entire house eerily quiet. Sam pulled out a flashlight, the beam bouncing off the cracked walls. "They could be anywhere," he whispered.

"We'll just have to start in the basement and work our way up," Bobby said as he started forward, heading down the short hallway that led to the kitchen.

They made their way down the stairs, the warped, rotten wood sagging under each step. Bobby took the lead, holding his flashlight in front of him. They moved silently through the basement, clearing it within minutes. Bobby followed Sam back up the stairs and they made their way back into the living room.

"It doesn't seem like anyone's here, Bobby. Maybe we have the wrong place." Sam glanced anxiously around, seeing the faint traces of Dean's footprints from the last time they'd been there.

"They're here all right. Look," Bobby hissed, pointing at a dark stain on one of the stairs leading to the second floor. Sam bent down and ran his finger over it.

"Blood," he muttered and stood up. Sam was just about to step onto the first stair when Bobby grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"We gotta go about this the smart way, Sam. There might still be innocent people in this house and they gotta be our first priority."

"Dean and Reggie are my first priority, Bobby," Sam snapped, yanking his arm out of the man's grasp. "But if we find anyone else, I know what I need to do." He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time, the beam of his flashlight bouncing erratically. Sam heard Bobby curse from the base of the stairs and looked over his shoulder.

The man was glaring at him. "We gonna do this together?"

He waited for Sam to reply.

"Yeah, of course."

"Then you might wanna remember that," Bobby grunted as he finally started up the stairs

Sam smiled, realizing what the man had been implying. He waited for Bobby to reach the landing before heading down the left end of the long hallway.

* * *

"Can you smell that?" Alexander hissed. He darted to Reggie's side and took a deep breath through his nose. "She smells glorious." He stroked Reggie's cheek with one of his long thin fingers and she jerked her head away, causing her body to swing.

"Get the hell away from her," Dean growled. Alexander turned to face him, a twisted smile stretched across his face.

"Are you trying to give me orders?" Alexander laughed loudly and strolled over, glancing at Cassandra and Adrianne as they hovered on either side of Dean. "Meals do not give orders." He smacked Dean across the face, the sound echoing around the room.

Dean shook his head, trying to clear the stars from his vision, and glared at the man. Alexander raised his hand, waiting eagerly for Dean to say something else. Dean could feel everyone's eyes on him, including Reggie's. He met her gaze and held it, trying to focus on her instead of what was around them.

"You okay?" he asked her.

Laughter bounced off the walls, pounding in Dean's ears. "What a stupid question," Cassandra cried, stepping in front of Dean to block his view of Reggie. "Of course she's not okay. Neither of you are! What you've failed to grasp, Dean, is that you're both going to die.

"We're going to slowly torture you, enjoying each scream, each tear you shed. And once we've gotten tired of your pleas for mercy, we're going to eat you!" She turned her back on Dean and stalked toward Reggie. Dean struggled against his chains, the muscles blazing in his arms as he twisted and jerked. "I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen and smelled it for myself."

"What's that," Dean asked, trying to get the woman to turn back around and focus on him.

Cassandra ignored him, stopping in front of Reggie.

"I never would have guessed that you would care more for his life than your own," she said directly to Reggie. She stroked Reggie's cheek with the back of her hand. "Hurting you is what makes her afraid," Cassandra said over her shoulder. "You must be really special, Dean."

Cassandra raised her other hand and ran a thin finger down Reggie's suspended right arm, cutting into the smooth skin of her bicep. Reggie screamed, the sound making Dean's heart constrict painfully, as the blood ran down her arm. Adrianne was at Cassandra's side, her hands clenching and unclenching eagerly. Dean grimaced as she pressed two fingers into the flowing wound, then stuck them into her mouth.

"I'm so hungry and she tastes so good," Adrianne groaned, repeating the action.

Alexander stood so close now that Dean could smell the decay, the result of years of eating human flesh, oozing out of his skin. "It was just going to be an experiment, torturing you in front of her to see how she would react, but you've both exceeded our expectations.

"By putting the two of you in the same room, to make one watch as we cause the other pain…it fills the room with such exquisite aromas. I can smell it even now, as I stand so close to you, the fear pouring off of Reggie. Fear for what I could be doing to you while she's being tortured over there. And I can smell your fear for her just as strongly. You humans are such unpredictable things."

Reggie screamed again as Adrianne cut another gash alongside the first.

"I'm going to cut you into tiny little pieces you smelly son of a bitch," Dean snapped, kicking his legs out.

Alexander chuckled and pushed Dean lightly so that he swayed back and forth before turning away and strolling back over to Reggie.

"Promises, promises," he called over his shoulder.

* * *

Sam entered what appeared to have been a bedroom long ago, his back against the cracked and peeling wall. The few pieces of furniture that had been left behind were shoved to one corner and in the center of the room sat a steel table. He circled the room once before stepping forward to get a better look at the table.

Sam recognized it as the ones he and Dean had seen plenty of times in county morgues while investigating possible supernatural deaths. It had what appeared to be blood caked on it and Sam leaned closer, trying to identify a small spot near the top of the table. He jerked backwards, realizing with horror, that it was a piece of rotting brain matter. Sam hurried from the room and moved on to the next one, hoping as he clenched the door handle, that he would not find the same thing.

After clearing three more rooms, he met up with Bobby in the hallway. "Every room so far has been empty. Are you sure the Myrrh oil will work against these things?" Sam asked.

Bobby rolled his eyes and nodded at him. "Of course I'm sure. Are _**you**_ sure this is the right place? That the ghouls couldn't have set up somewhere else in town?"

"This was the only place that fit what the ghouls like. Isolated, empty, plenty of room - this place fits them all. Besides, I found evidence they _**were**_ here. There was a table with some dried blood and stuff in one of the rooms back there," Sam said, shuddering as he pointed at the door of the room he'd checked earlier.

"So where the hell are they now?"

"Maybe they picked up and moved somewhere else when they realized there were hunters here?"

"I sure as hell hope not. 'Cause if that's true, we have no way to find Reggie and Dean."

Bobby sighed and opened one of the last doors on the left that neither of them had checked. Sam followed him inside and bumped into the man; he was stopped dead in his tracks. Sam's stomach clenched and he bit back against the urge to vomit, bile rising in his throat, as he took in the sight before him.

The room was covered in gore, the walls splattered with blood. Chains hung from the ceiling and suspended in them what was left of what appeared to be a man.

"Jesus," Bobby hissed and covered his face.

Sam could hear the man gagging behind his hand. Sam yanked up the collar of his shirt, covering his nose as the smell of death finally hit him. He took a hesitant step forward, his hand shaking as he pointed his flashlight at the body.

"What the hell...?" Sam muttered, his voice muffled by his t-shirt.

"His name was Robbie Marsten," Bobby said, getting Sam's attention. He was hunched over a pile of clothes thrown into a corner of the room. Sam walked over and took the I.D Bobby was holding out to him.

"This was the last guy that went missing before you called us. He disappeared about nine days ago," Sam said, looking into the tired brown eyes that stared up at him from the driver's license photo.

"Well, I'm no coroner, but it looks like he's only been dead for about two or three days. Which means that if they're not here now, they ain't far." Bobby turned, looking for Sam, but found himself alone in the room. "Sam?" he called, getting up and moving back into the hall. Bobby shut the door behind him, cutting off the ghastly sight.

Unfortunately, the smell still lingered with him as he moved down the hallway. Bobby could hear doors opening up ahead and he quickened his pace. As Bobby got to the first room down the west end of the long hallway, Sam came barreling out, nearly knocking him over.

"Sorry," he said and rushed into the next room.

Bobby followed after him, confused by Sam's erratic behavior. He had only taken two steps into the room when Sam pushed past him back out into the hall again. By the third room, Bobby'd had enough and he grabbed Sam's arm, yanking him to a stop.

"What are you doin'? Ya think you're going to find Dean or Reggie in one of these rooms?" he snapped as Sam tried to jerk his arm out of Bobby's grasp. "They ain't here, Sam."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause they ain't dead, that's how. You said this Marsten guy was taken nine days ago? Well it looks like he's only been dead for at least two. That means that the ghouls keep their meals alive for some time."

"So?" Sam glared at Bobby, waiting for him to get to the point.

"So? Reggie and Dean were only taken last night, right? So that means they're still alive, Sam."

"But if the ghouls know they have two hunters, don't you think that will move them up the food list? If you're right, and they got our scent the last time we were here, then they definitely know that there is at least one more hunter in town. That I'm out here looking for Dean and Reggie."

"You may be right, kid, but ghouls enjoy the torture. They enjoy savorin' the torment of their captives. Even if they're worried about you findin' them, they have to hold Dean and Reggie alive. They can't help 'emselves." Bobby relaxed his shoulders as he saw Sam take in what he said and relax himself. "I don't like thinkin' about what could be happenin' to 'em any more than you do, Sam, but we gotta be smart about this."

"I know, Bobby. It's just...after seeing that guy back there..." Sam stared at the hunter, his hazel eyes trying to convey that the terror and agony he felt were far beyond words.

Bobby laid a hand on Sam's shoulder and gently squeezed it. "I know, kid," he said, his voice hushed.


	14. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

Dean shook his head, trying to clear it. Reggie's screams still echoed in his ears, his head pounding from the blows he had taken. His vision was blurry from the blood running into his eyes from a cut just below his hairline. The cut was courtesy of the bitch called Cassandra. She had slowly carved into Dean's flesh as he screamed in pain, as Reggie screamed for her to stop, a gleeful smile stretched across her bluish-gray face.

The ghouls were no longer wearing the veils for them, too intent on their torture of Reggie and Dean to carry them anymore. There was a groan and Dean raised his head to look at Reggie. She hung only a few feet away from him, her eyes closed and her breathing slow. It was then that Dean realized they were alone for the first time in hours. He moved his head, trying to take in the entire room as he hung suspended from the ceiling.

"Dean?" Reggie groaned, her voice hoarse.

Dean turned back to her, meeting her pained gaze. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in the deep cuts across her bare stomach and arms. Dean winced when he saw a large gash still oozing blood just under her jaw.

"Hey, how're you doing?" Dean asked, trying to keep her awake. Reggie eyes fluttered for a moment and she shook her head, trying to clear it. She gave him a weak smile.

"I'm okay. How are you?" Reggie tried to shift, the weight from her body pulling painfully on her shoulders, but winced when the movement created more pain.

"Don't worry about me. I've been in worse situations than this."

"Where'd they go?" Her voice broke and she cleared her throat, grimacing as the effort made her raw throat burn more.

"I don't know." Dean tried looking around again and felt the muscles in his shoulders twinge as a cramp seized them. He hissed and cursed.

"What?" Reggie asked, her eyes full of concern.

"It's nothing, just my muscles."

Reggie nodded at him. "Do you think they have Sam?" Dean's stomach clenched as Reggie voiced the one thought he had been pushing to the back of his mind.

"I think that if the ghouls had Sam, they would have gloated about it," Dean stated, trying to sound more sure of his answer than her felt. "No, I think Sam's okay, still out there." He took a deep breath. "Sammy's out there looking for us right now. He probably even called Bobby for help. They'll find us soon."

"I'm sorry," Reggie said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"For what?"

"For this," Reggie snapped, jerking her head to the side to indicate the room. "If you hadn't come here, if you hadn't stayed, you wouldn't be strung from the ceiling. You wouldn't be here, getting tortured by a bunch of ghouls."

"This isn't your fault." Dean watched Reggie roll her eyes and it made him angry. "No, it's not your fault, Reggie, you hear me. Sam and I came here…"

"Because of me!" Reggie cried, cutting Dean off. "You came because Bobby called you when I didn't check in. You said so yourself the other night."

"Okay," Dean relented. "We came because we were worried about you, yes, but we also came because it was a job. Whether you'd been here or not, Sam and I would have come to Bridgewater to check things out. None of this is your fault, you hear me?" Reggie nodded at him and a smile pulled at her lips. "What?" Dean asked.

"That speech kinda sounds familiar," Reggie said and Dean realized what she was referring to. It was the same speech Reggie had given Dean a few times, whenever he had tried to shoulder the blame for her Uncle Frank's death.

Dean snorted and shook his head. "Maybe a little. But you gotta realize I'm right. None of this is your fault."

"Only if you agree that the reasoning works for both of us?"

"Fair enough."

Dean chuckled and Reggie raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"We're facing possible death at the claws of some supernatural freaks and yet you still want to argue with me. You're just as messed up as I am," Dean laughed.

Reggie joined him, the sound echoing off the stone walls. It was then that Dean realized something, making him grasp just how deep a hole they truly were in. His laughter choked off and he cursed.

"Stone walls?" he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Reggie asked. She turned her head, trying to look around the room. "Dean, what's the matter?"

"Stone walls, Reggie. We're surrounded by stone walls. There were no stone walls in the house we searched. They were all plaster and wood. Which means we're…"

"Not in the house," Reggie groaned, finishing Dean's thought. "And if we're not in the house, then Sam's going to start looking for us in the wrong place." She met his worried expression with one of her own.

* * *

Bobby walked into the last room on the second floor and found Sam staring at a small pile of clothes on the floor. They had been soaked in blood before it dried, making the fabric hard and brittle. "They're not here, Bobby," Sam stated as the man approached him. "Dean and Reggie aren't here."

"I know, Sam." Bobby put a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "Are you sure there isn't anywhere else these things coulda taken 'em?"

Sam rounded on Bobby, anger flooding his face and contorting his features. "There isn't anywhere else! I've told you that this is the only place that fits!" he yelled.

"Easy, kid. I'm on your side, remember? I'm just tryin' to figure out where these sons of bitches could've taken Reggie and Dean." Bobby tried to lay his hand on Sam's shoulder again, but he jerked away from him. "I want to find 'em just as much as you do, Sam," Bobby snapped, throwing his hands into the air.

Sam sighed and nodded at him. "I know, Bobby. I'm sorry I'm blowing up at you. It's not fair to take it out on you and I know that." He waited for the man to accept his apology, for Bobby to tell him he understood. When Bobby didn't speak, Sam turned to face the man and found him staring out one of the dirty windows. "Bobby?"

"What's that?" Bobby asked, pointing out the window. Sam crossed the room to see what Bobby was looking at. Hidden just inside a cluster of trees was a large dilapidated stone building.

"I don't know."

"Didn't ya three check it out?"

"We didn't even know it was there, Bobby. Reggie never mentioned there being another building on the property and there was nothing about it in the research I did on my own."

Bobby smacked the windowsill with his hand. "Maybe that's 'cause it wasn't meant to be found," Bobby hissed, turning to Sam. "Or maybe it was cloaked like everythin' else and you coulda walked right by it without even knowin'."

Sam turned to stare out at the building, the roof barely visible under the stretching tree branches, the stone walls covered with moss and blocked by overgrowth. "That has to be where the ghouls have Dean and Reggie," Sam gasped. He spun and raced from the room.

"Sam, wait!" Bobby yelled after him, hurrying to catch him. He bumped into Sam at the top of the wide staircase, frozen in mid step on the first stair.

Bobby followed Sam's hard gaze down onto the landing below and saw the two partly-hidden figures staring up at them. Bobby pulled out the knife he had tucked into the back of his vest slowly, trying to hide the movement. One of the figures stepped into the beam of light from Sam's flashlight and both of them gasped as they took in the bluish-gray form dressed in a light pink dress.

It was obviously a woman from the contours of the shape below the dress, but any feminine features the creature once had were obliterated by the fierce attributes of a ghoul's. She had long, thin fingers that ended in sharp talon-like fingernails and she smiled up at them through thin pink lips stretched over sharp, pointed teeth.

"You must be Sammy Winchester," she purred up at Sam and raised a hand, rolling the fingers at him in an exaggerated wave. The ghoul turned her crimson gaze on Bobby and frowned. "And who are you?"

"Where are Reggie and my brother, you freaky bitch?" Sam snapped. Her gaze jerked back to Sam and she hissed at him.

"I see you have more than good looks in common with Dean," the ghoul growled and stepped onto the first stair.

"I have a lot more in common than you know," Sam said, pulling out a long thin blade from inside his jacket and gripping it tightly. She smiled at him and shook her head.

"That's a pretty blade you have there, boy. I'm going to enjoy using it on you when I begin carving the flesh from your bones."

The ghoul took another calculated step and Bobby realized she was bating Sam, trying to get him to come to her. Bobby grabbed Sam's arm, revealing his own weapon in the process. Sam looked over at him and saw the warning on Bobby's face. He looked back down at the ghoul and chuckled.

"Nice try, bitch, but you're going to have to come get it first." Sam darted down the hallway as Bobby took off running in the opposite direction.

Sam sped into the first bedroom and spun around, waiting for the ghoul to give chase. He crouched, preparing for her, the blade held tightly in his left hand, his flashlight still gripped in his right. Sam didn't have to wait long as a blur of gray raced into the room and slammed into him, knocking him backward. The flashlight sailed from his hand as he flew into the hard metal table in the center of the room and rolled off it, landing on his knees.

Instincts and training kicked in and Sam rolled again, feeling the rush of air past his face as the ghoul tried to hit him, and missed. He swung his arm up, the knife turned out, and grinned as he heard the creature scream in pain. The wound turned the pink dress black, the ghoul's dark blood pouring from a large cut across her abdomen.

Sam spun again and brought the knife up, aiming for the ghoul's chest. He missed and was hit in the sternum, air rushing from his chest in a whoosh, as he sailed through the air. He hit the wall between two windows, his left elbow breaking a pane in a loud crash.

Sam could feel blood running down his fingers, making them slick, so he switched the blade to his right, preferring his dominant hand anyway. The ghoul had stopped, her breath hitching in her deformed chest. She placed a clawed hand over her wound and pulled it away covered in her own blood.

"That was lucky," she hissed as she met Sam's angry stare. Her body twitched and Sam smirked at her.

"Not lucky. Planned."

The ghoul looked at him again, suspicious and raised the hand covered in blood to her nose. Her eyes expanded as she recognized the familiar scent mingled with the blood.

"Blessed Kyphi oil's toxic to you assholes, isn't it?" Sam hissed. The ghoul screamed and launched herself at him. He was ready, planting his feet firmly on the hardwood floor as he prepared for the ghoul's attack.

In one swift movement, Sam swung his arm up and watched as the ghoul's head soared into the air, the knife cleanly severing it from its body. It landed on the steel table Sam had tumbled over with a wet thump, the body hitting the floor a second later with a louder thunk. Sam straightened up and pulled out the flask of oil Bobby had given him earlier.

After dragging the body onto the steel table, he poured the oil over the mangled form and pulled out a lighter, setting the whole thing ablaze. Bright blue flames erupted, the heat radiating over Sam's stoic form as he watched the ghoul burn. In only a few moments, the flames began to die down, turning a lighter shade of blue as the creature's skin and bone turned to ash. Sam slipped the lighter back into his jeans pocket and left the room to find Bobby.

* * *

"You're too old to kill me, hunter," the creature before Bobby hissed and took a menacing step forward. Bobby decided to play to the ghoul's obvious misconception and stumbled backward, pretending to trip on his own feet. She laughed and lunged at him.

In one swift move, Bobby sidestepped the creature's attack and brought his blade up, severing the left arm of the ghoul as she swiped at him. She screamed in pain and anger and spun on him again. Her speed was more than Bobby had expected, even after losing an arm, and he went flying through the air, hitting the wall hard.

Dust and plaster dropped onto him as he hit the floor. Bobby shook his head, trying to clear the stars from his eyes. The ghoul was on him a second later, lifting him from the floor with her remaining arm and slamming him into the wall again.

Bobby lifted the hand still holding his knife and, without any way to stop him, the ghoul cried out before Bobby silenced her as he cut off her head. He dropped to the floor as the creature's arm released him and kicked the headless body.

"Looks can be deceivin', sweetheart," he panted.

Bobby looked up at the sound of approaching feet, preparing for another fight. Sam ran into the room and stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before him.

"You okay?" Sam panted.

Bobby nodded and pushed himself up. "Help me with her, will ya?"

Sam helped Bobby carry the body into the room he'd burned the last ghoul and place it on the metal table on top of the ashes that still smoldered on it. After dousing the creature and setting fire to it, Bobby and Sam stood watching the ghoul burn.

"I guess that answers that," Bobby said a few minutes later as they were descending the stairs into the parlor.

"Answers what?" Sam asked as he picked up the duffle bag he'd hidden behind the rotten sofa in the living room.

"They gotta be in that buildin' out back."

Sam nodded at Bobby. "And they know we're here," he added as they walked through the house, heading for the back door.


	15. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

Reggie could hear someone screaming, crying out in excruciating agony in the distance. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, curling into a ball as she tried to block the sound from reaching her brain. A searing pain shot through her side, though, and her eyes flew open as she jerked awake.

"There she is," she heard a voice say from across the room.

Reggie blinked her eyes, trying to make them adjust to the darkness, to make out the shape that belonged to the voice. Alexander stepped forward, emerging from a black corner and Reggie realized she was no longer in the same room.

She had been moved, her new surroundings darker and colder. She was also no longer suspended from the ceiling, her hands free on the ground in front of her as she lay on her side on the cold stone floor. Reggie pushed herself up leaning against the cold, damp wall behind her and stared at the creature in front of her.

Alexander smiled at her, or at least it was the action of a smile. The look sent shivers down her spine as thin pink lips spread over sharp pointed teeth. He closed his crimson eyes and took in a deep breath, relishing whatever smells hung in the air. Reggie scanned the room quickly in that moment before returning her eyes to Alexander.

"Where's Dean?" she asked icily.

"Oh, he's…around. We had our fun with you two and now we've moved on to something new. Well, new for you anyway," Alexander purred as he bent down a few feet from Reggie. She slid her legs out in front of her and saw the shackle around her right ankle. "A precaution I don't really think is necessary," Alexander stated, indicating the chains. "Cassandra thinks you might still try to fight us."

"Well if you think I'm no match for you, why don't you take them off?" Reggie snapped. Alexander shook his head and smiled at her again.

"Even after everything you've seen - our speed, our power - you still think you're capable of standing a chance against us?" Alexander asked. He began to shake his head. "You must really be quite stupid."

He stood up and made a wide circle around the room, staring at his long fingernails as if admiring a good manicure.

"You think there is a chance you'll survive this?" He stopped and stared at Reggie, then nodded, as if deciding something. "Of course you don't. You just want to make sure Dean does!"

"How did you manage that idea?"

"He was the first thing you asked about. You lie bleeding on the floor, chained, and facing certain death, yet the first thing you ask about is that useless hunter? You must really care for him." Alexander took a step closer, staring into Reggie's furious glare. "I wonder, does he know?"

"We're friends, that's all." Reggie turned her face away and spotted a large wood door to her right.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Reggie. I've seen the way you two look at each other," Alexander spat. "The bickering and fighting, that's just all part of the dance you two insist on performing instead of actually acting on your feelings. You forget that we've been watching you. Or perhaps you didn't realize?" He waved his hand, dismissing her before she could respond, as he continued to circle the room.

"Either way, I've seen how he looks at you when you're not looking, how he stares at you with such intensity. And you do the same, don't deny it."

Alexander was directly in front of her now, leaning down into her face, the rot emanating off of him in waves. Reggie refused to look at him and it made him furious. Alexander grabbed her face in one hand and turned it so that she had no choice but to look at him.

"It's a shame he'll never know," he hissed, stroking her cheek with his other hand, "how exquisite your flesh feels." He curved one sharp finger down the side of Reggie's neck, digging the nail into the skin at her collarbone. She screamed and pushed his hand away.

Alexander laughed as Reggie held her hand against the flow of warm blood running from the cut, wincing as the salt from her sweat stung the wound. He stood up and turned his back on her as the heavy door opened with a slow creak. Elisa peeked into the room. From the way she hesitated in the doorway, Reggie could tell the ghoul was concerned about something.

"We have a problem," she mumbled, trying to keep her voice low so that Reggie couldn't hear her. Alexander glanced over at Reggie and then hurried from the room. Elisa glared at Reggie for a moment, then followed, shutting the door behind her.

Reggie raised herself up, moving the shackle so that she could stand on her feet. Her jeans were stiff in spots where her blood had already begun to dry. She realized she had only her bra on, her shirt having been removed during one of the times she'd blacked out. Reggie began to roll the left leg of her jeans up, stopping when she revealed the small black strap and silver blade fastened to her calve, just below the knee.

The ghouls hadn't searched her completely, having missed the blade she had put there as part of her routine before leaving the motel room. Reggie pulled out the knife and bent down over the lock on the floor. Glancing up at the door every few seconds, she began working on the lock, trying to pick it with the knife between her fingers. She winced when the blade dug into the tip of her index finger, drawing blood, but ignored both the bleeding and pain as she continued to work.

Finally, Reggie heard a click and the top of the ancient black iron lock popped up. She glanced up at the door again before yanking the lock off and prying the shackle open. She limped to the door, gripping the knife in her right hand as she took the handle of the door in her left.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and slowly opened the door. The screaming was louder in the hallway and she pressed her head against the back of the door, steeling herself for what she was about to do. Taking another deep breath, Reggie pulled open the door just enough to squeeze through, and slipped into the dark, dank hallway.

* * *

Dean opened his eyes and found himself alone in the small room he had awoken in earlier, before the ghouls had brought him to Reggie. His hands were not chained to the wall this time, but both his legs were bound in shackles at the ankles. He shifted and hissed as the skin around a large gash in his side pulled.

Dean could feel several different cuts and gashes stinging, and after a quick assessment, saw that none of them were very deep or life threatening. He could hear screaming from somewhere, some other room, and listened, trying to recognize the voice. The sight of the ghouls carrying Reggie, unconscious, from the room, a steady drip of blood from the cut across her bare stomach following them out flashed through Dean's head and he grimaced, pushing it away again. Cassandra had tortured him some more, digging her long claws into his arm, until he too succumbed to unconsciousness.

Dean heard movement outside the room through the cracked door and he tensed, waiting for one of the ghouls to come through the door. The noise moved away, heading off down the hallway, and he relaxed a little. A few minutes later, Dean heard voices, carrying above the screaming and he shifted, trying to get closer to hear.

"…someone in the main house, Alexander." Dean recognized the voice as the ghoul called Elisa. "Alana and Jessica went to check it out half an hour ago. No one's heard from them since."

"Then take Jacob and go see what's taking them," Alexander snapped. "They're probably just enjoying a meal of their own. You know how they hate to share."

"What if it's the other one, the third hunter? From what Cassandra has said, Sam Winchester is something entirely different than what we've dealt with before."

"Sam Winchester's…gifts are only affective on demons, Elisa. There is nothing to worry about. Now, go see what is taking Alana and Jessica while I return to Reggie. My, do I have such fun planned for that beautiful…" Alexander's voiced trailed off as he moved away from the door.

Dean grabbed the chains in his hands and yanked fruitlessly, his anger flooding his vision a hazy red. The screaming continued, getting louder and more agonized. He dropped onto his butt on the cold, damp floor and cursed under his breath. Sam was in the wrong place, looking for them exactly where he and Reggie knew he would start.

At least now Dean knew where he was. There had been an outlying building, probably a storage building or maybe even an old barn, and they hadn't even known it was there. He hadn't considered that the ghouls would be able to cloak an entire building, but maybe their power was a lot stronger than he thought.

"Be careful, Sammy," Dean mumbled to himself, shuddering as he thought about what could be happening to his little brother. "No," he cried, shaking his head. "You know what you're doing, Sam. You'll be all right."

Dean glanced around and snorted. "Me, on the other hand…well, I'm pretty screwed at the moment." As if in answer, the door to his room began to creak slowly open. Dean shifted, pressing his back against the damp stone wall behind him and waited.

* * *

Reggie crept down the dark hallway, her back pressed firmly against the wall, her eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. She came to a black door and stopped, pressing her ear to it. Inside she could hear the horrible sounds of tearing and growling. Her stomach clenched painfully as bile rose up in her throat and Reggie choked back a gag as she realized what she was listening to.

"Oh god," she mumbled and moved on, knowing she was too late for whomever it was that had been in there, the sounds of the ghouls feasting inside the room following her down the hallway.

Reggie heard voices up ahead and pressed herself against the wall, trying to fade into the blackness around her. She knew there was nowhere to run and, if they came around the corner ahead of her, the ghouls would surely spot her. They were, after all, able to see in the dark far better than she could, even after all the years Reggie had spent living in darkness.

The voices moved the opposite way and Reggie exhaled the breath she'd been holding, exhaustion and relief flooding through her. She took only a few seconds to collect herself, before moving again. She peered around the corner, checking to make sure the coast was, in fact, clear.

The screaming was louder in this hallway, but only slightly so, and Reggie listened, trying to discern Dean's voice from the cries. It was too impossible, the voices so choked with agony to tell, and she steeled herself as she started down the hall.

Reggie came to a door that was slightly ajar and stopped, listening for any kind of sounds from within. She heard a voice curse loudly and her heart jumped in her chest. Reggie eased the door open slowly with her left hand and slipped into the room.

"Reggie?" Dean cried out in relief.

Reggie nodded at him and raised a finger to her lips, shushing him. She stuck her head back out the door and Dean waited, listening for the sound of approaching feet, staring at Reggie's dirty, bare back. She stepped back into the room and closed the door before slumping against it.

Reggie looked horrible and amazing all at the same time. There was dried blood splattered on her jeans and the light blue bra she was wearing. Her curly brown hair was messy and tangled. A fresh gash across her collarbone still bled freely and she had a large bruise along her left side from either cracked or broken ribs.

Reggie finally met Dean's gaze and smiled at him. She hurried over and knelt down beside him, a long silver knife in her hands. "Where'd you get that?" he asked as she began working on the lock for the shackle on his left leg.

"I had it strapped to my leg. They didn't find it when they pulled off my boots." There was a click as the lock popped open and Reggie started working on the right shackle as Dean yanked the first one off.

Within seconds, Reggie had that one unlocked too. She helped Dean up and he felt her cool skin against his. He stared at her for a second before wrapping his arms around her, hugging Reggie tightly to him. Dean felt her wrap her own arms around his waist as she pressed her face against his chest. They stood like that for a second, both too relieved at the other's safety to move. Then Reggie pushed herself back and looked up into Dean's face, her green eyes red, but bright.

"We gotta get moving."

"Yeah I know." They moved to the door and listened, trying to hear anything above the screaming outside to determine whether the hallway was clear or not.

"I guess we're just going to have to take a look," Reggie whispered, taking a step back from the door. Dean nodded at her and prepared himself for a fight.

"You don't happen to have another knife strapped somewhere, do you?" he asked anxiously as Reggie reached for the door.

She snorted, choking back the laughter, and shook her head.

"Nope, sorry. Guess you're just going to have to stay behind me."

Although Reggie couldn't see Dean's face in the dark, she knew what he was doing.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," she hissed over her shoulder as she opened the door.

The hallway was empty so Reggie motioned for Dean to follow her as she slipped through the door and pressed her back against the wall. Dean eased out of the room a second later and they moved down the hall, their bare feet barely making a sound. They could feel a cold draft coming from somewhere ahead of them and moved toward it, hoping it would lead them outside.

As they rounded a corner, they came to a wide open space, and in the center, stood Cassandra and Alexander, their backs to Reggie and Dean. They looked agitated and, as Reggie ducked back behind the wall, began to argue.

"She was in the room when I left it, Cassandra. And I didn't unchain her, if that's what you're thinking," Alexander snapped. "I know what she is, what she's capable of, down to the last breath in her body. I have dealt with hunters before, you know."

"If you didn't unchain her, then how did she get loose? She was searched when Elisa and Alana first brought her here," Cassandra replied.

"Well, then they didn't search her properly! She's gotten free, picked the lock with something, and is now roaming around, probably determined to find Dean."

"Most likely, yes," Cassandra said, sighing. "Why don't you set a trap for her then, use him as the bait, and lore her out? Once you have them both together, kill them. I'm tired of the game, anyway."

Footsteps began to fade away and an uneasy silence settled around them as Reggie and Dean waited, hoping that both ghouls had left. Reggie signaled to Dean and took a hesitant step forward. She peered around the edge of the wall and then glanced back at him, nodding that the coast was clear. They had taken only three steps when Alexander stepped out in front of them, a twisted grin stretched across his horrific face.

"Found your lover, have you, pet?" he hissed at Reggie.

Alexander took one quick step forward and swung, hitting Reggie and sending her flying into the darkness behind Dean. Dean turned to face the ghoul, weaponless but determined. He barely registered the creature's movements as it hit him, sending him crashing through an old, weathered stable door. Dean landed hard on his side in a thin layer of moldy hay and felt his shoulder dislocate.

"You have no idea what I'm going to do to her once I've killed you,' Alexander snarled.

Dean rolled onto his back and was yanked up, the ghoul's nails gripping painfully into the skin of his biceps. He cried out and head butted the creature, his hard skull connecting painfully with the creature's. The ghoul staggered backward, dropping Dean, who hit the ground again, stars flooding his vision.

Dean heard a screech of pain and looked up in time to see Reggie yanking her knife from the ghoul's back. The creature dropped to the floor, trying to grab at the wound, to stop the flow of dark blood oozing out. Dean spotted a dirty, broken shovel in the corner of the stall and grabbed it, using it to help him stand up, his injured arm hanging limply at his side. He threw the shovel to Reggie, who caught it easily, and placed the tip over Alexander's neck.

She placed one bare foot on the top and paused.

"Are you afraid to die now?" she growled at the ghoul and pushed down hard, severing the creature's head and cutting off its horrible scream.

Reggie looked up at Dean, a small trail of blood running down from a gash on her forehead, and handed him back the shovel.

"Now do you feel better?" she asked as she brushed past him, heading off into the darkness.

Dean gaped after her for a second, stunned.

"Are you coming?" she called impatiently from the blackness.

Dean glanced back at the ghoul's still form before jogging off after Reggie.


	16. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

Reggie wandered through the dark, her hand wrapped tightly around the handle of her knife, ignoring the nagging ache in her side as she breathed. She couldn't tell if her ribs were cracked or broken and couldn't remember when she had taken the blow to warrant them either.

Too much of the last several hours was a complete haze to her. Reggie stopped, waiting to hear Dean's steady breathing and light footsteps behind her. Instead, she heard only silence. She turned around, squinting into the blackness, trying to see.

"Dean?" Reggie hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no response. "Shit!" she cursed, her stomach clenching as she realized they had lost each other in the blinding darkness.

Reggie grasped the knife tighter and started back the way she had come, hoping to find Dean along the way. It felt like she had been walking for hours, her legs burning from exhaustion, her feet cold and numb against the icy stone floor. She stopped when she heard movement ahead of her, holding her breath despite the pain and dizziness it caused.

After a few seconds of silence, Reggie began moving again. She came to a split, two dark hallways stretching to the right and the left. She could hear noises coming from the right hallway so she decided on the left, hoping she was making the right choice.

Reggie came upon a large door and pushed through it, instantly regretting her decision. The room she entered was unmistakably the room in which the ghouls had hung her and Dean, dangling them from the ceiling as they tortured and tormented them.

In the corner, pacing, was Adrianne. She looked up, hearing Reggie's entrance, and a smile stretched across her face, twisting the once pretty features into a grotesque mask of hunger and insanity.

"Reggie," Adrianne hissed.

She took a step forward and Reggie raised the hand holding the knife. Adrianne's red eyes flickered to it and then back to Reggie's face.

"That isn't going to hurt me, Reggie. You know that, don't you?"

"Normally, no, it wouldn't hurt you. But I came prepared, Adrianne. I did my homework on you ghouls. I know enough about you to know that a normal blade won't kill you, that it wouldn't even hurt. One dipped in Kyphi oil, though, will sting like a bitch and stop the wound from healing!"

Adrianne snarled at Reggie, eyeing the blade with apprehension now. Her eyes flickered between the knife in Reggie's hand and Reggie's still bleeding wounds.

"You can't beat me, Reggie. I'm too strong, too fast. If you give up now, I promise to make it quick for you. Don't fight me and I'll make sure you're death is as painless as it can be."

"And why would you do that?"

"I thought we were friends," Adrianne drawled slowly, licking her lips as she continued to eye Reggie's wounds. "Think of it as a favor. You know, for old time's sake."

Adrianne took another step towards Reggie and Reggie gripped the knife tighter as she stepped back. Adrianne's eyes flickered to something behind her and, moving so fast that she didn't even see her do it, Adrianne slammed Reggie into the wall.

Reggie screamed as she landed on her left side, her injured ribs blazing painfully. Her vision swam and she gasped for air. Adrianne yanked Reggie up and tossed her across the room, planting herself between Reggie and the door. Reggie shook her head, trying to clear the stars from her eyes, as her head swam. She could hear Adrianne's slow approach and looked up at the woman.

"Oh Reggie, I'm afraid I won't be able to keep my promise after all," Adrianne hissed as she grabbed Reggie by the arms and lifted her up, slamming her into the wall. Her red eyes flickered over the dozen cuts still bleeding across Reggie's body.

Reggie's right hand still clutched the knife and she tried to raise it, but Adrianne grabbed her wrist. In one quick twist, she broke it, the knife dropping to the stone floor in a clatter as Reggie screamed again. She thought she heard the sound of approaching footsteps as Adrianne slammed her against the wall over and over again. It was becoming increasingly difficult for Reggie to focus, her breathing painful.

Eventually, Reggie could no longer fight it. She felt her body slide to the floor, the cold stone feeling wonderful against her tired, aching body. Reggie finally succumb to the encroaching blackness, her pulsing blood a roar in her ears, her heartbeat slowing as she slipped out of consciousness.

* * *

Sam and Bobby were just making their way through the thick grass that had grown almost as tall as the older hunter when they heard movement coming towards them. Sam grabbed Bobby's arm and dropped down, trying to hide amongst the tall grass. From the sound of their approach, Sam knew what was moving quickly through the night: more ghouls.

It was hard to determine the direction they were headed, though, and Bobby motioned to Sam, trying to get him to move again. If the ghouls happened upon them out there, they would be at a great disadvantage, possibly a deadly one. The element of surprise would be the ghouls, not the two hunters. Sam nodded at Bobby and signaled for him to head into the trees to their right. They began moving, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Within minutes, they were safely hidden behind the base of a large oak tree. "That was too close," Bobby whispered to Sam. Sam held up his hand, wanting to be sure the ghouls were gone before answering the man. There was nothing but silence, not even the sounds of wildlife one would expect in such a densely wooded area.

Sam took a deep breath and relaxed against the tree trunk. "I think they were headed for the main house."

"Which means we only have a few minutes before they find what's left of their friends inside and realize we're here."

Bobby could barely make out Sam's still form beside him in the dark, but knew that turning on a flashlight was out of the question. It would alert the ghouls to their position immediately. He heard Sam hiss and curse under his breath.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Just a cut, I think," Sam replied. "My elbow crashed through one of the windows earlier and I just banged it again, that's all."

"It ain't still bleedin', is it?"

He heard Sam hesitate before answering. "A little, yeah."

Just as Bobby was about to respond, they heard a loud crash from the deserted main house and then the sound of quickly approaching footsteps in the field behind them.

"Dammit," Sam hissed as he glimpsed two ghouls running back towards the second building. He stood up, keeping himself hidden behind the tree to watch them, when one stopped and turned its head to the trees.

"Move," Bobby yelled as he jumped up and started running.

Sam had just enough time to see the ghouls turn towards them before he started running too, close on the older man's heels. Bobby tripped on a twisted root and Sam grabbed him by the back of his vest and lifted Bobby to his feet before pushing his way back out into the field. Sam could see the building a few feet ahead of them and could hear Bobby running behind him.

Suddenly, a figure loomed out in front of Sam and he skidded to a stop, pulling out his knife with his right hand. "Hello, Sam," the voice hissed. Bobby came to a stop beside him, his flashlight pointed at the ghoul standing before them.

Sam recognized the creature as the woman in the green top he and Dean had watched walk out of the bar the night before. She took a deliberate step forward, a smile stretching across her hideous face. Sam planted his feet firmly and waited for her to attack. Glancing over at Bobby from the corner of his eye, he saw Bobby do the same thing.

"You're too late, you know. Too late to save your brother or his friend."

Sam knew the ghoul was baiting him, trying to get him to make the first move, but it still took all his control not to launch himself at the creature. "I might believe you if you didn't look so worried to see us," he snapped back at her. The smile faltered and she growled at him, the sound feral and deep. Sam smirked at her.

"Smile all you want, Sam, but they'll be dead long before you reach them," she snarled.

The ghoul took another step towards him just as Sam heard the sound of snapping branches to his right. He had just enough time to yell a warning to Bobby as the second ghoul launched itself out of the trees, tackling Bobby onto the cold, hard ground. The creature in the green top took advantage of Sam's momentary distraction and slammed into him, planting her shoulder into his sternum. The air rushed from his lungs as he flew backward, the ghoul landing on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground with one hand.

Sam used the momentum of his fall to hitch his hips upward, surprising the ghoul and flipping her over his head. He rolled to the left and jumped to his feet as the ghoul scrambled up, snarling at him. Sam quickly scanned the ground for his knife, which had been knocked from his grasp.

He spotted it a few feet away and made a dive for it, the ghoul racing after him. Sam managed to bring the knife up just as the ghoul dove on top of him again, slicing into the flesh across her belly where the shirt had risen up. The ghoul screamed and wrapped her hands around Sam's throat, choking off his air.

For a second, Sam began to panic, his vision blurring from lack of oxygen, the sky above him going dark despite the shining full moon. There was a screech to his left as Bobby fought with the second ghoul. The sound of Bobby's fight brought Sam's focus back. He stopped struggling with the ghoul, stopped trying to pry her clawed hands from his neck, and instead reached out, finally finding the knife in the grass to his left.

Sam gripped the blade again, feeling the handle mold to his fingers and plunged it into the ghoul's chest. She screamed and let go, jerking backwards as Sam held onto the knife. It pulled free from her chest and gave Sam enough room to swing his arm up with enough force to cut off her head. It hit the ground with a soft thud and rolled away.

Sam coughed and rubbed his throat as he searched for Bobby. He spotted him a few feet away, just outside the trees, illuminated in the blue flames burning at his feet. The ghoul that had attacked him was still writhing on the ground as it was consumed in fire.

"You good?" Sam called, still massaging the skin on his neck.

Bobby looked up, meeting Sam's gaze, and shrugged. "Yeah. I lost my knife so I just doused the damn thing." Sam nodded and pulled out the flask with the oil in it. "Here, let me help ya," Bobby said as he made his way over to Sam. He kicked the head over to the body as Sam tossed oil over it. As they stood watching the second ghoul burn, Bobby turned to Sam. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "I'm good." He rubbed his throat, still feeling the phantom grasp of the ghoul. Bobby took a step forward and shined his flashlight at him. He touched the skin, which had already begun to develop a nasty bruise, and shook his head.

"That was close, kid. Too close if ya ask me." Sam ignored the fatherly gesture and went to get the duffle bag he'd dropped when the ghoul had appeared in front of him.

"Come on. We gotta get inside that building," Sam said as he started across the field toward the large stone and cement building.

Bobby followed him silently, knowing there was very little time now to find Dean and Reggie. The ghouls knew the cavalry had come and wouldn't waste any more time torturing them. Despite what he wanted to believe, Bobby knew there was a chance that Reggie and Dean could already be dead.

As they neared a wide panel door, Bobby realized the building was much larger than it had appeared from the main house. Part of the building were stalls, most of them still containing hay from the many years they'd housed horses or cattle. The rest was all stone and cement, leading off into darkness.

As they entered the building, Sam motioned to Bobby using the military hand signals John Winchester had taught him, and Bobby shined his flashlight onto a headless corpse. Sam let out a relieved sigh as they saw the familiar bluish-gray skin of a ghoul. He pulled out his oil flask and dumped the rest of its contents onto the corpse as Bobby searched for the head. The blue flames lit up the entire area, giving it an eerie glow.

"Sammy?"

Bobby and Sam spun around, looking for the source. Dean stepped out of the shadows, shirtless and covered in bruises and cuts, some of which were still bleeding. Sam rushed to his brother, dropping the duffle bag on the floor as he grabbed Dean into a hug.

"Easy. I'm not in the same pristine condition you last saw me," Dean winced.

Sam took a step back and stared Dean in the face. "Remember that time with the Benders in Minnesota?"

"Yeah, of course I remember those crazy freaks."

"Do you remember what you told me, about disappearing on you?" Dean nodded at Sam and grinned. "Well, don't you ever disappear on me like that again either!" Sam snapped, a grin tugging at his lips too.

"Good to see you're alive, Dean," Bobby said over Sam's shoulder.

"Thanks Bobby. Kind of figured Sam would call you for back up," Dean said. "So, Sammy, you got another one of those knives for me?" Dean asked, eyeing the long blade in his brother's hand.

Sam noticed the broken-handled shovel Dean was gripping and nodded. He bent down and pulled a large bowie knife from the bag as well as a black t-shirt. Sam handed them both to his brother.

"Thanks," Dean said gratefully, tossing the shovel away and gently tugging on the t-shirt.

Sam glanced around. "Where's Reggie?" Sam saw his brother wince as he slid the cotton fabric over a large cut along his side.

"I lost her about ten minutes ago. One minute, I was right behind her and the next, she was gone."

Dean took the flashlight and canteen Bobby offered him, opening the canteen and putting it to his lips. He took a few deep gulps of the water inside, relishing the coolness as it rolled down his dry throat.

"I've been wandering around in the dark, trying to find her again when I saw the light from that fire and found you guys."

"Well, she couldn't have gotten far," Bobby said, looking off into the dark hallway behind them, the blue flames from the burning ghoul diminishing too quickly to give off much more light.

They started down the hallway, the lights from their flashlights bouncing in front of them, Dean in the lead. They could feel the ground declining as they walked, the air growing cooler. Dean shivered and stopped. They were at a crossroads, three different hallways jutting off into the darkness in front of them.

"I don't know which way," he whispered. He pointed to the first dark hallway on the left. "I think we came from that direction after Reggie found me, but I don't know which way she came from first."

"Splitting up is a bad idea," Bobby hissed, turning to face the two young men, both of whom had taken steps in opposite directions. Sam and Dean both opened their mouths to argue. "No, I don't wanna hear it," Bobby said, shaking his head. "We're just gonna have to take one hall at a time. We don't know how many ghouls could still be down here." He glared at both of them, waiting.

Finally, Sam and Dean nodded and Bobby started down the first hall Dean had pointed to. They moved silently, checking each room they came to, finding most of them empty. When they reached the halfway point, Dean stopped in the doorway of a small room with chains in the floor and walls.

"This is where Reggie found me," he stated. Sam brushed past him into the room, his flashlight pointed at something in the corner.

After a second, Dean realized it was his jacket and boots. He pulled them on, grateful to have found his favorite jacket, and even more so, once he started to warm up. Bobby had already moved on to the next room which was empty except for a few old bones.

Sam and Dean hurried to catch up with the man as he reached the end of the long hallway and found two new hallways to choose from. All three of them stood for a moment, listening to the sounds around them. They could hear a steady dripping sound echoing down the hallway to the left. Sam started forward down the hallway on the right, his flashlight casting very little light in front of him.

At the end of this hallway, they came to a large round room with torches stuck into the walls and strange bottles nestled into alcoves in the stone. Bobby walked forward and took a red, pear-shaped bottle from its shelf. He opened it and sniffed the contents, wincing as the smell burned his nose.

"I think this is their ritual room," he stated, looking around at all the other bottles.

Sam grabbed the first bottle within reach and dropped it onto the floor. The sound of the clay bottle crashing to the floor reverberated around them. He paused for another moment, before yanking at all the bottles around him, smashing them one after the other. Bobby followed quickly after him, grabbing the bottles from their shelves on his side of the room.

Dean stood watching them, a confused expression on his face. "What the hell are you two doing?" he hissed as Bobby tossed a large basin onto the floor.

"This is the room they make more ghouls in, Dean," Sam replied as he smashed the last bottle onto the floor.

"Oh," Dean nodded, still bewildered. "Okay..."

When most of the bottles had been smashed, Dean turned around, heading out of the room. Sam and Bobby followed him back down the first hallway, heading to the next one. The dripping sound they'd heard earlier intensified as they walked, their footsteps louder on the stone floor.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash followed by a scream. Dean took off running, pushing past Sam who had been leading them through the maze of rooms and halls. He burst through a door at the end of the hallway and into the very room the ghouls had been torturing him and Reggie in earlier. Adrianne stood in the center, leaning over Reggie's still form.


	17. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

"Sam? Dean? So nice of you to join us," Adrianne cried, smiling widely at them. Her eyes flashed to all three hunters. "I'm a little busy right now, but just give me a minute and I'll be right with you."

"Get away from Reggie, Adrianne," Dean growled, gripping the knife tightly in his hand. He raised it up, preparing himself. He heard Sam gasp at his side and glanced at his brother.

"Adrianne?" Sam muttered, his face a mask of disbelief. She chuckled at them and Dean went back to glaring at her.

"Don't give me that sympathetic look, Sam. I'm fine. Better than fine, actually." She took a step towards them, her eyes dancing from one to the other. "Who's your friend?" she asked as she looked Bobby over.

Dean moved to the side, trying to circle the ghoul to Reggie as she stood in the center of the room. Adrianne glanced at him and grinned manically. He stopped, waiting for her to attack. After a few seconds, she turned her attention back to Sam and Dean began moving again. He saw that Bobby had begun circling the opposite way as well, so that all three of them were spread out around Adrianne.

"I was looking for you yesterday, Sam."

"I'm sorry I wasn't around," Sam said as Dean got closer to Reggie. He met Dean's warning look and nodded, trying to tell his brother that he had the situation under control. "If I'd seen you in the bar, maybe you wouldn't be here now."

"I told you, Sam, I'm fine. Been fine for a while now." Adrianne sighed heavily. "Stop right there, Dean," she snapped, her head whipping around to glare at him. He was only a few feet away from Reggie, who remained still. "If she isn't dead now, she will be before you can stop me."

"Why were you looking for me, Adrianne," Sam asked, trying to get the woman's attention back on him. She glanced at him for a moment before returning her ruby-red eyes to Dean.

"I liked you, Sam. You smell and look so yummy."

Adrianne hissed and jerked her head around to glare at Bobby, who was now just about even with Dean.

"I don't know who you are and perhaps you didn't hear me earlier when I warned Dean, but I wouldn't take another step. Not unless you want me to make sure Reggie's dead."

Bobby froze under the woman's angry glare. Dean took advantage of the temporary distraction and took another step. From where he was standing, he couldn't tell if Reggie was even breathing, her body lying in a heap on the ground.

"Adrianne..." Sam began, trying to get her attention back on him so that either Bobby or Dean could get to Reggie. She glanced over at Dean for a second before settling her eyes back on Sam, waiting for him to continue. "You realize that we're going to have to kill you, don't you?"

"You can try," she snarled.

Adrianne took a step toward Sam and Dean tensed, waiting for the woman to attack his brother. She turned her head to Dean, her crimson eyes alight, and smiled.

"I can smell the fear rolling off of you, Dean. Tell me, is it for Sam or Reggie? Or maybe yourself?"

"Shut up, bitch," Dean snapped.

The ghoul smiled at him which only made him angrier. She wagged a long finger at Dean and shook her head, still laughing.

"Your brother has no manners, Sam," she said as she stared at Dean.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? Our dad didn't raise us to have respect for freaks like you," Sam spat.

Adrianne's head whipped back to him, the smile disappearing instantly. She took two more deliberate steps towards Sam, her hands balled into fists. Dean took the moment to take another step towards Reggie and saw Bobby do the same. Sam waited, watching the creature before him as it glared at him, hands clenching and unclenching at its sides.

"That wasn't very nice," she hissed and launched herself at Sam.

Dean's body involuntarily turned towards Sam, his need to protect his brother still strong despite knowing that Sam didn't need it. Adrianne hit Sam, knocking him backwards into the door, which slammed closed with a bang. The snarls and growls coming from her echoed throughout the room. Dean saw that Bobby had frozen too, torn between helping Sam and helping Reggie.

"Help Sam," Dean yelled at the hunter as he turned back to Reggie. Bobby nodded and rushed to Sam's aid.

Dean dropped onto the floor beside Reggie, calling her name. He hesitated, his hand stretched out above her bare arm. He was afraid to touch her, afraid that they were indeed already too late and Reggie was dead. He could hear the fight going on to his left, hear Adrianne's snarling and Sam and Bobby's cursing.

Dean glanced over and saw Sam cut off her head, silencing her screams of anger. He turned back to Reggie just in time to see her eyes snap open. Relief washed over him. She tried to push herself up, crying out as she put weight on her right wrist.

"Easy," he said, grabbing her left arm and helping her sit up. Reggie winced as she leaned back against the stone wall. Dean could see the bruising across her ribs had spread further.

"Help me up," Reggie ordered.

Dean took her hand and helped her up, holding his hands out as she swayed on her feet.

"I'm okay," she said, glancing at him for a second.

Reggie turned her gaze to the bright blue flames at Sam's feet, watching them intently for a moment. She shivered and Dean shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders. She smiled weakly at him and slipped her arms through the sleeves. Reggie had to push them up to free her hands, the coat clearly too big on her slender frame.

"Is that...?" she asked, still watching the burning corpse.

"Yeah, it's Adrianne," Sam said as he stepped around the fire. "Are you okay?"

Reggie nodded and forced a smile on her face. "I'll be fine." She took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled, closing her eyes and causing all three men to take a hesitant step toward her, afraid she was going to pass out. She opened her eyes and snorted. "Relax, fellas. I'm okay, really."

"Let's get the hell out of here then," Dean said and started for the door.

"Hey Bobby," Reggie said as she passed the man, following behind Dean.

All four hunters moved silently down the dark hallway, Dean in the lead with his flashlight bouncing ahead of him. They had just made it back to the main entrance, a breeze drifting through the open door bringing with it clean air, when a figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking their path.

"You have ruined everything," Cassandra screamed. Dean dropped his flashlight and threw out his arm, stopping Reggie and pushing her behind him. Cassandra remained in their path, seething with rage, her blue chest rising and falling heavily. "I've lost everything!"

Dean spotted Sam and Bobby out of the corner of his eye as they stepped up beside him. They were all waiting for the creature to attack, to make the first move, but instead she just stood there, glaring at them. Bobby raised the hand holding his knife and Cassandra hissed at him.

"Let's just get this over with," Dean snapped as he took a step towards her. Cassandra turned her eyes on him and, for one fleeting moment, Dean saw the creature's own fear and despair. Then she spun and took off, running into the darkened forest. Dean turned to Bobby and Sam in confused disbelief.

"What the hell?"

* * *

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror at Reggie and Dean who were slumped together in the backseat of Bobby's Chevelle as they sped down the road back to the motel. Both of them looked horrible. They were covered in cuts and bruises, blood dried into their hair, deep, dark circles under their eyes. But they were alive and that was all that mattered.

Bobby followed a bend in the road, speeding along the dark highway, and Sam watched as Reggie's head slid onto Dean's shoulder, realizing she'd dozed off. He saw Dean's eyes open a little, reacting to the weight of the woman's head, before drifting closed again as he too fell asleep.

Sam looked out the windshield, watching the trees speed past them as Bobby drove. His mind swirled with the events of the last twenty-four hours. "Where do you think she's going to go?" he asked, his voice low. He turned to Bobby, trying to read the man's face in the dark car.

"Well, there really ain't too many places she'll be able to hide now," Bobby replied, glancing at Sam.

Sam sighed. "I can kind of get why she ran. She didn't want to die, but now she's alone. She's going to have to keep running, looking over her shoulder for the day when one of us finds her again," Sam said, staring at his dirty hands as they rested in his lap. He heard Bobby sigh and looked up.

"It ain't a great life, but at least, for now, she's still got one. I'm just thinking about all the people she's gonna kill before she's stopped for good." Bobby pulled into the motel parking lot, easing his car into a spot next to the Impala.

Sam glanced around. "It feels like a lifetime since we were last here," he said. He yawned, feeling the stress of the last several hours as it finally crept into his body. Sam glanced in the rearview mirror again and saw that Dean's eyes were open, watching him. "Hey."

Dean nodded at him, stifling his own yawn. Sam climbed from the car and pushed the seat forward, stepping back to allow his brother to climb out from the backseat. When Dean didn't move, Sam leaned down.

"You need any help?" he asked, watching as Dean awkwardly struggled with whether to wake Reggie or not.

"No, I got her," Dean said as tried to slide across the seat with Reggie. Sam heard Bobby chuckle as he got out on the driver's side. Reggie stirred just as Dean tried to lift her from the car.

"I can walk to my room, Dean," she yawned. She took two steps and stumbled. Both Dean and Sam threw out their hands to catch her and Reggie glared at them, already steady on her feet. "I'm okay," she growled. She started walking again, Dean close behind her.

"I'm gonna go get a room," Bobby called as he headed across the lot to the motel office, laughing to himself. Sam followed Dean and Reggie to their rooms, twirling his room key around his finger.

Reggie paused at her door and cursed. "Dammit! My key was in my jacket pocket," she groaned, patting the pockets of her jeans with her uninjured hand. "We gotta go back."

"Tomorrow. Right now you need to get some rest," Dean stated and grabbed her arm, leading her down to their room. "You can sleep in our room tonight."

Reggie opened her mouth to object, looking back at Sam for some kind of help, but Sam shook his head at her and tossed Dean the room key.

"I wouldn't even try. I'm with Dean, Reggie. You need to get some sleep. You can barely stand up as it is."

"Fine, all right, I give!" she cried as Dean opened the door and pulled her inside. "But I'm getting a shower first!" Reggie turned to face them, waiting for their argument.

Instead, Dean shrugged. "Fair enough." He looked over at Sam, who was still standing in the doorway. "Can you go out to the Impala and get the first aid kit?" he asked.

Sam nodded and slipped back outside. Dean glanced back at Reggie and saw her struggling to pull off his leather jacket. He walked over and gently tugged the coat off, tossing it on the end of Sam's unmade bed.

"Thanks," she said, covering her mouth as she yawned again. Dean looked over some of the cuts on her skin, his fingers tracing just below the deep gash on her collar bone. She shivered and smiled sheepishly up at him. "That tickled."

"Sorry," he muttered and stepped back, suddenly aware of how naked Reggie looked in just her bra and dirty jeans. "Why don't you go get your shower. When you're done, we'll patch you up."

"I'm going to need some clothes."

Dean nodded at her. "Yeah, I know. I'm sure we can find something for you to borrow for tonight." He turned and headed for one of the duffle bags on the floor. He waited, as he sifted through the clothes inside, to hear the bathroom door close as Reggie went to take her shower.

"Dean?" He turned his head towards the sound of her voice and saw her standing in the bathroom doorway looking hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," Reggie said softly and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door quickly behind her. Dean was still staring at the closed door when he heard Sam come back. He pulled out one of his many black t-shirts and stood up.

"I need you to help me with my shoulder," Dean said, wincing as he dropped into one of the chairs. "It dislocated when I was being tossed around like a rag doll."

"Sure. And we can take care of some of your cuts, too."

Sam placed his hand on the back of Dean's shoulder, holding his brother's arm in the other.

"Ready?" he asked.

Dean nodded and took a deep breath. Sam pushed and felt the pop as Dean's shoulder slid back into the socket.

"Son of a..." Dean cried, slamming the fist of his other hand down on the table. He dropped his head, breathing heavily as his vision swam, trying to grit through the pain.

"You okay?" Sam asked, opening the first aid kit and pulling out a bottle of aspirin.

Dean nodded at him and held out his hand. Sam dropped three little white pills into his hand and Dean swallowed them dry. Sam continued to remove things from the kit: surgical tape, bandages, alcohol swabs, a needle and thread. He eyed Dean carefully, watching as his brother's pain subsided some.

Sam pulled the second chair over and sat down, tearing open one of the alcohol swabs. "I'm going to clean the smaller cuts first. Then I'll see if Bobby's got something liquid to help kill the pain before I start stitching up the rest."

Dean nodded at him and gently lifted his t-shirt. He closed his eyes as he sat back against the chair. Dean heard Sam wince as he took in all the wounds across his torso. He opened his eyes and looked at Sam.

"They aren't as bad as they look," he stated.

Sam looked at him, his eyebrow raised. Dean chuckled at the look of disbelief on his brother's face before closing his eyes again. He concentrated on the sound of the shower running as Sam went to work.


	18. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

There was a hard rap on the door to their room and Sam put down the swab he'd been using to clean a nasty gash along Dean's left bicep to open the door for Bobby. "I come bearing anesthetic," Bobby declared as held up a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Bless you," Dean cried, practically jumping from his seat.

He grabbed the bottle out of Bobby's hand, unscrewed the lid, and gulped down the amber liquor. Dean winced as the alcohol burned his still achingly dry throat, but took another drink anyway.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Ya might want to slow down though," Bobby scolded, taking the bottle from Dean and screwing the lid back on. "I'm guessin' it's been a while since you last ate."

"Don't get all maternal on me, Bobby. I just spent the last several hours being tortured by a bunch of ghouls. I think I deserve to get a little drunk."

"It's paternal and I'm sure ya would, but I ain't got anymore booze and Reggie's gonna need some of this," Bobby snapped, waving the bottle in front of Dean.

"All right," Dean relented and sat back down.

Bobby put the bottle on the table and sat down on the end of Dean's bed. They heard the shower shut off and Dean got up, grabbing the t-shirt he had pulled out for Reggie. He walked to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door. It cracked open and a wave of steam poured out as Reggie stuck her head through the opening.

"Here," Dean said, shoving the shirt through the door.

"Thanks," Reggie replied as she took the offered shirt before shutting the door.

A few minutes later, she emerged wearing the t-shirt. Although it was big on her slight frame, the shirt only covered Reggie to the top of her thighs. All three men averted their eyes, feeling awkward as she stood there.

"I think I have an old pair of sweats that might fit you," Sam said, hurrying over to his duffle bag.

He rifled through the bag, finding the sweatpants at the bottom, and tossed them to her. Reggie pulled them on, a grin stretching across her face.

"I didn't know you three were so bashful," she teased.

"Just sit down so we can bandage you up," Dean grunted, pushing the chair Sam had been sitting in with his foot. Reggie grinned as she obediently sat down, reaching for the bottle of Jack. She swallowed a large mouthful and nodded at Dean.

"Be gentle with me," she said, batting her eyelashes at him, before beginning to chuckle.

Dean growled at her, rolling his eyes, and, grabbing the bottom of the chair in one hand, yanked her towards him. He could hear Bobby and Sam snickering behind him. Dean started with the smaller cuts on Reggie's chin and forehead, dabbing them with alcohol before putting butterfly stitches over them.

As he worked, Sam and Bobby sat talking over the nights' events. Dean tried his best to tune them out, tired of the shop talk, at least for the night. Reggie took sips of the bottle as he worked, her eyes getting glossy as the liquor worked through her system.

"You're going to have to hold the collar out of the way," Dean instructed as he peered at the deep cut across her collar bone again. Reggie took another swig of the bottle and handed it to Dean.

She yanked at the oversized shirt, pulling it off her shoulder, exposing a large area of skin. "This work?"

Dean nodded at her and gulped down some liquor, feeling a heat in his cheeks from more than just the booze.

"You ready?" he asked as he picked up the already threaded needle.

"I'm good, go ahead," Reggie stated and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth.

Reggie flinched only once as Dean sewed the wound closed. It took him only a few minutes to finish and, as he snipped the end of the thread, she opened her eyes again. Reggie's cheeks had gone a light pink from the alcohol and she smiled lazily up at him. Dean grabbed the bottle from her hand and shook it, the last bits of amber booze sloshing around at the bottom. He hadn't realized she'd been drinking the whole time he worked.

"I didn't know you were such a lush," he cried, dropping the nearly empty bottle onto the table. Reggie shrugged nonchalantly.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," she mumbled, pulling the shoulder of the shirt back up. She tipped sideways on the chair and Dean grabbed her arm, holding her in place. "I'm okay, Dean," she said lazily, pushing his hand away.

Bobby snorted and got up from his seat on the end of Dean's bed. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay," he said. He stretched and walked to the door.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said, getting up from his chair and offering his hand to the hunter.

"Anytime, kid." Bobby shook Dean's hand, a grin stretching across his face. "I'm startin' to get used to swoopin' in and savin' your asses, anyway," he joked. Dean playfully punched the man in the arm as both he and Sam followed Bobby to the door. "See you three in the mornin'," he said, nodding at Reggie.

Sam closed the door and turned around, leaning against it. "Are you going to go take your shower now or can I jump in?" he asked.

"Were you held captive by a bunch of crazy freaks determined to eat you after they tortured you?" Dean snapped playfully. "No, you weren't! I think that gives me precedence, don't you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "All right, then go already." Dean grabbed some clean clothes out of his duffle bag and headed into the bathroom. Sam could feel Reggie's eyes on him and he looked over at her.

"The ghouls knew about your...abilities, Sam," Reggie stated bluntly.

"Really?" Sam replied, his voice rising in a bit of shock.

"They talked about your family, about what's happened to all of you. Your mom's death and what the yellow-eyed demon did to you that night. John's deal to save Dean and Dean's deal to save you. They even knew about him being brought back by Castiel." Reggie shook her head and got up. "It's not much more than what _**we**_ all know, but I don't like it all the same. If they know..."

"Then who else does," Sam finished for her. She nodded at him.

"I know you don't think your abilities are dangerous and that you can use them for good. And I'm sure you've had this argument a thousand times with Dean, but I don't think you should be messing around with them anymore. You're playing with fire, Sam." Reggie stood at his side, looking up at him. "I probably overstepped my boundaries there, huh?"

"No, it's okay. Dean and I _**have**_ fought about it a lot, but there are things that neither of you understand." Sam smiled at her, trying to allay the uneasy expression on her face. "It's okay, Reggie, really. And I'm glad you told me about the ghouls."

She yawned again and her eyes drooped. "Sorry," she apologized, smiling weakly at him.

Sam laughed and gave her a light nudge toward the beds. "Go lie down before you collapse on the floor," he chuckled. Reggie gave him another weak smile which developed into another yawn and shuffled over, dropping onto the edge of Dean's bed.

"I wanted to say thank you," Reggie said through yet another yawn. She slid back on the bed, laying her head on one of the pillows.

"What for?"

"For coming to Bridgewater. If you two hadn't come, I'd probably be dead," she mumbled as she began to drift off.

"No problem," Sam said.

He turned off the lights, leaving only the light by the table on and sat down, gathering up the trash leftover from dressing Reggie and Dean's wounds. A while later, Sam heard the bathroom door open as Dean came out, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans.

He glanced over at Reggie as he passed the bed. "Bathroom's all yours," Dean whispered. Sam nodded at him, gathered up some clean clothes, and slipped into the bathroom.

Dean stood in the middle of the room, staring at Reggie, watching as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her face peaceful. It was a major contrast to what she had looked like when they were being tortured by the ghouls at it put his mind at rest to see her look so safe now.

Dean sighed, remembering what Cassandra had said about Reggie being more concerned for his safety than her own. He hoped it wasn't true, that it was just another game the ghouls had been playing. He didn't deserve to have someone feel that way about him.

"Are you planning on standing there all night," Reggie grumbled. Her eyes were open and she was watching Dean, reading whatever expressions that had flashed across his face. She sat up, a disgruntled look on her face. "What's bothering you?"

He shrugged, trying to look apathetic. "Nothing." Even in the dark room, Dean could see Reggie roll her eyes at him.

"Don't even try it, Dean. I think I've learned to read you pretty well by now and I know there's some thought chasing its way around that head of yours." Reggie patted the spot next to her on the bed. "Just talk to me." When Dean didn't move she added, "please?"

The gentle pleading face she gave him made Dean's stomach flip-flop nervously. He sighed again and crossed the room, flopping onto his back on the bed beside her. Dean lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of something he could say instead of what he was actually thinking.

"Well," she said impatiently.

"I was just thinking about the ghoul that got away." He turned his face towards her and saw the obvious skepticism written across Reggie's own.

"Do you really expect to me to believe that?"

"It was worth a shot, wasn't it?" Dean asked, shrugging with a sly grin. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"They weren't wrong," Reggie stated into the silence. "The ghouls weren't playing some twisted game when they said what they said," she mumbled. Dean eyes snapped open and he turned his head, staring at her. Reggie's eyes were fixed on the ceiling above them, her jaw clenched determinedly.

"I care about you, Dean. Maybe more than I should." She finally turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. "I know that's probably something you don't want to hear, but it's the truth and, considering how our lives have been going..." Dean saw her already rosy skin go an even more red as she blushed. "I don't expect anything from you, Dean. I just thought you should know," she added.

Dean struggled with what to say, how to respond, to Reggie. Her words swirled in his brain, a thunderstorm of thoughts. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the bathroom door opened as Sam came out. He paused in the doorway, the light from the bathroom casting a light glow over Dean and Reggie. They lay there, silent and still, listening to Sam's breathing as he watched them.

After a few seconds, thinking that Reggie and Dean had fallen asleep, Sam turned off the light and made his way over to his bed. A few minutes later, he turned out the last light and they heard him get into bed. Reggie and Dean lay there, staring at each other in the darkness, listening to Sam's steady breathing as he slept. Slowly, they too drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The strong smell of coffee woke Dean, his nose twitching as the delicious aroma wafted towards him. He opened his eyes and stretched, feeling the soreness of his muscles as he moved. He glanced around the room and spotted the source of the aroma on the nightstand beside him; a large cup of coffee, with the lid already off, sat waiting.

Dean pushed himself up, resting his back against the wood headboard and reached for the coffee, wincing as he extended the arm of his still tender shoulder. He took a sip, relishing the warm liquid as it rolled down his throat. The door to the motel room opened and Dean looked up, noticing for the first time that he was alone in the room. Sam entered and smiled at Dean.

"Hey man! Glad to see you're finally up!"

"Where'd everybody go?" Dean asked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his face and took another sip of his coffee.

"Bobby and I went back to the house while you two were still sleeping and got Reggie's things. I just saw Bobby pull back in from dropping her off at the bar so she could get her car." Sam plopped down onto one of the dining chairs and opened his laptop.

Dean got up, his legs aching painfully, and strolled over, pulling back the edge of the curtain. He had to squint against the bright sunlight shining outside. Dean could see Bobby at the trunk of his Chevelle as he loaded the car.

"Looks like Bobby's getting ready to head out," he stated.

"Yeah. Bobby mentioned that he had some business stuff to take care of later today. Some guy looking for a part for his car," Sam replied distractedly.

Dean let the curtain fall closed and glanced at the screen on Sam's computer. He saw that Sam had brought up the digital version of their father's journal and was adding to the small entry their father had written on ghouls.

There was a knock on the door and Dean went to answer it, tearing his eyes away from the screen. "Hey Bobby," Dean greeted the older man. He stepped aside so that Bobby could enter.

"Mornin'," Bobby replied, nodding at Dean. "I'm 'bout ready to hit the road, but I wanted to stop and say goodbye 'fore I do."

"Thanks for coming out, Bobby," Sam said. He shut his laptop and got up, joining Dean and Bobby as they stood by the door.

"No problem." Bobby shrugged. "Just promise me you'll _**try**_ and keep outta trouble for awhile?"

"We always try," Dean said, grinning at the older man.

"Sure ya do," Bobby grumbled with a smile. All three broke into laughter as Bobby made his way outside. He turned back as Sam and Dean stood in the doorway. "Tell Reggie I said to give me a call once she gets outta town."

"Will do," Sam replied. They waved as Bobby climbed into his car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean stood just outside the door, watching the road, his face scrunched in a frown. "Reggie still isn't back yet," he stated. He saw Sam shrug his broad shoulders as he stepped back into the room.

Sam sat back down at the table and opened his laptop again. "I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"Yeah, probably..." Dean muttered.

He seemed lost in thought, but Sam barely noticed, too wrapped up in what he was doing. A few minutes passed in silence before, suddenly, Dean nodded to himself and grabbed his boots off the floor. Sitting down on the end of his bed, he tugged them on.

"I think I'm gonna go out for a bit. You okay being stuck here for a little while?" Dean asked.

"Sure, I guess," Sam said, finally tearing his eyes away from the computer and looking his brother over carefully. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Dean said, waving his hand dismissively.

Dean grabbed his leather jacket and shrugged it on, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. When he didn't find them he looked up. Sam was holding his hand out, the Impala's keys dangling from his index finger.

"I found them in a puddle in the alley," he said as Dean took the keys from him.

"Stupid man-eating freaks," Dean grumbled under his breath. "Thanks, Sammy," he added as he stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him.

Dean walked over to the Impala, running his hand over the smooth, cold metal. He smiled and climbed in behind the wheel. The engine roared to life and, as Dean pulled out onto the road, he cranked up the stereo, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel in time to the music.


	19. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

Dean pulled over onto the side of the road behind Reggie's dark blue Plymouth and shut off the engine. He had driven by the bar, hoping that she had perhaps just stopped somewhere in town, but knew, deep down, he wouldn't find her there.

Dean had driven, as if on autopilot, back to the old house where the ghouls had set up residence during their time in Bridgewater, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he forced the memories away. He got out and started across the road, the wind whipping around him as he walked.

Dean headed past the old, crumbling house, heading towards the large outbuilding, a chill running down his spine as he looked at it. Flashes of the night before sped through Dean's head again and he pulled out a flashlight, gripping it tightly, as he stepped inside.

Dean began making his way slowly down the long, dark winding hallways, listening for any sounds that might indicate where Reggie was within the labyrinth of passageways. He'd been wandering around for what seemed like hours when he saw a flash of light up ahead before it quickly disappeared.

Dean started in the direction of the light, his footsteps echoing around him. Seconds later, he entered a large open room, recognizing it immediately. It was the very room they had found Adrianne standing over an unconscious Reggie, the same room the ghouls had spent hours torturing Reggie and him in.

Dean spotted Reggie in a corner of the room, standing with her back to him. He was sure she had heard him enter, but she didn't turn around. He cleared his throat, trying to get Reggie's attention.

"What do you want, Dean?" Reggie asked icily, her back still to him.

"I came looking for you. What are you doing here, Reggie?"

"I don't know. I guess I needed to come back to put some closure on what happened." She sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. "Sam said he and Bobby checked every room. All those people the ghouls took, they're dead, Dean." Reggie finally turned to face him, her eyes alight with a mixture of anger and despair. "I couldn't save a single one. And Adrianne..." She squeezed her eyes closed, her hands balled at her sides, breathing deeply. Dean stood watching Reggie fight for control.

"There was nothing you could have done, Reggie. Nothing any of us could have done," he stated, taking a hesitant step towards her. Reggie's eyes snapped open and she glared at him.

"You're wrong! If I'd stopped the ghouls sooner, maybe Adrianne would still be alive," Reggie shouted. "This is my fault. All of it."

His whole body shaking with rage, Dean crossed the room and grabbed her by her arms. "It isn't your fault," he snapped, shaking her roughly. "God, Reggie. We barely got away with our own lives!" She tried to yank out of Dean's grasp, tried to push him away, but Dean held onto her tightly.

Finally, Reggie slumped against his chest, her breathing hitched with emotion. "You should run as far away from me as possible, Dean," she muttered, her voice muffled by his jacket.

"What?" he asked, confused. Reggie looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. She began blinking furiously as she tried to hold them back.

"You should leave town. Get as far away from me as you possibly can," she stated more forcefully.

"I heard you the first time. I just don't get it," Dean growled, pulling her away from him so that he could see her entire face.

She swiped at the tear rolling down her cheek, angry that it had broken free. "I put all the people around me in danger. They die around me, Dean, or haven't you noticed? I don't want anything to happen to you or Sam or Bobby. I don't think I could live with myself if anything did.

"The other night, when we were in here and the ghouls were torturing you, all I could think about was that it was my fault you were here. It was my fault that you could have, that you almost, died. I don't want another almost, Dean. You need to leave, to get as far away from me as possible, and stay away. Just forget you ever met me before I get you killed."

Dean gaped at her, at a loss for words, his anger almost choking him. He couldn't believe the words coming from Reggie's lips.

"You're nuts," he finally cried, stepping away from her. "You're absolutely bonkers!" He glared at Reggie, watched as the hurt flashed across her face before she forced it away. "I...why...how," Dean stuttered angrily.

He threw his hands into the air and paced in front of her. "How can you think that what happened - to Frank, to Adrianne - to any of us, is your fault? Do you realize how unbelievably frustrating you are?

"You preach to me about carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders and how it's not my responsibility; that I can't blame myself for every bad thing that happens, for every life I can't save, then you go and do the same thing! You can't have it both ways, Reggie!" Dean stopped pacing and glared at Reggie, waiting for her to say something.

"I guess we both have a lot to work on," Reggie finally said, staring at the floor.

When she finally looked up at him her face was calm, relaxed. Her green eyes sparkled, but not with tears and Dean felt himself relax a little. Reggie gave him a weak smile and Dean returned it.

"How'd you know to find me here?" she asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

Dean shrugged. "It's where I would go." He grinned at Reggie. "If you haven't noticed, you and I seem to be a lot alike."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Reggie said, chuckling. Dean felt the mood lighten considerably more and the tension in his shoulders eased away completely.

"Let's get out of here. Go get a beer or something," he suggested.

"It's one-thirty in the afternoon, Dean."

"Okay, so we'll just go get something to eat instead," Dean relented, grinning broadly. Reggie snorted and swatted him, wincing as pain shot through her injured wrist. "We never looked at that last night," Dean said with concern.

"It's fine," Reggie replied. Dean cocked an eyebrow at her and held out his hand. Reggie rolled her eyes and stepped up to Dean, laying her wrist in his open palm. He took her hand gently in his and pulled up the sleeve of her jacket. The wrist was badly swollen and disgusting shades of purple and blue.

"I think maybe we need to make a stop at the hospital first, to get that checked out by a doctor." Dean draped his arm casually over Reggie's shoulders and began to lead her out.

* * *

Once Reggie's cast had dried and a nurse stopped by to have her sign the forms for her release, Dean and Reggie made their way back outside to the parking lot. "I'll see you guys in a bit," Reggie said as she headed to her car. Dean started for the Impala, lost in thought.

He picked up Sam at the motel and headed back into town to meet Reggie at the small diner he and Sam had eaten at when they first got into town. The drive to the diner seemed much shorter than before and Reggie was waiting for the in the parking lot as Dean swung the Impala into it.

Once they got inside, Sam, Dean, and Reggie saw that they were the only patrons so they picked a table by the large glass windows along the front of the restaurant, relishing in the warm sunlight shining through them. Sam slid into the booth next to Reggie and took the menu she offered him. The waitress who had waited on them the first time they had come to the diner strolled over to the table, her black and gray hair pulled back in the same severe bun.

"What can I getcha," she drawled, her voice uninterested. They ordered their food and Sam watched the woman disappear into the kitchen.

"So, I think we should go get a couple of beers at Madison's tonight. You know as a celebratory goodbye," Dean suggested.

"I don't know, man. The last time we went in there, the two of you were taken hostage by a bunch of ghouls. I can't imagine who you'd go home with tonight," Sam teased. He saw Reggie shiver and regretted bringing the ghouls up.

"Ha ha ha. First of all, they're dead, Sam. And second, Reggie still hasn't given me a chance to win back the money she cheated me out of when we played pool."

"Cheated? I won that game fair and square," Reggie cried indignantly.

"You pretended like you'd never played a game of pool in your life and then - WHAM! Suddenly you're an expert," Dean argued.

"So?" Reggie raised her eyebrow at him.

"So?" Dean replied in the same tone. "So, that's not fair, that's cheating!"

"Life isn't fair, Dean. Hasn't anyone ever told you that," Reggie laughed. Dean opened his mouth and she held up her hand. "Fine, fine. If you want to lose some more of your money, who am I to fault you."

"Oh, you think that's how it's gonna go, huh?" Dean growled menacingly, leaning forward to look at Reggie ominously. "Bring it on, baby."

Sam snorted as the two of them playfully glared at each other across the table. The waitress brought their food, dropping the chipped white plates onto the table in front of them and, without another word, turned and walked away.

"What a peach," Reggie mumbled as she opened the lid of her bacon cheeseburger and began squirting ketchup onto the bun.


	20. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

"Oh come on!" Dean cried as Reggie hit the eight ball into a corner pocket, winning her fourth straight game in a row. Sam gripped the edge of the high table he was sitting at, his entire body shaking with laughter. Several other patrons in the bar were snickering as they passed by the pool table, clearly enjoying the show.

Dean slammed the rack back onto the table. "We're playing again," he snapped. Reggie shrugged, glancing at Sam over her shoulder, an amused expression on her face.

"You'd already owe me five hundred bucks, Dean, if we were even playing for money anymore." She shook her head, laughing as she watched Dean continue to set up for a new game. "Are you sure your poor ego can take anymore of this?" Dean glared at her, his face set determinedly.

"Maybe you should just let it go, man," Sam said, wiping at the tears that had begun to stream down his cheeks. Dean turned his icy stare on him and Sam chuckled as he lifted his beer from the table and took a sip. "O-kay. Never mind," he muttered.

"I'm breaking first," Dean snapped as he removed the rack from the pool table and leaned over, taking aim. He was letting his aggravation get the better of him and hit the cue ball too hard, sending it soaring down past the other balls, and over the side of the table. Sam burst into a new fit of laughter as Dean's jaw dropped open in angry shock.

"Let me guess. That was a practice shot?" Reggie teased, as she returned with the white ball, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She rolled the ball across the table back towards Dean. He stared at the ball as it bounced off the bumper in front of him, watching as it slowly rolled away.

"I need another beer," he stated suddenly as he placed his pool cue on the table and hurried away, disappearing into the small crowd around the bar. Reggie looked at Sam who shrugged his shoulders. She walked over to the table and took a seat on the stool next to him.

"Dean really isn't used to losing, is he?"

"Not really. I mean, Dean's lost a few games before, but never that many at one time."

"And never to a girl," Reggie added. Sam shook his head at her and she raised an eyebrow at him in.

"Okay, so maybe it could be a teeny bit of a sore spot for him," Sam finally admitted with a grin.

Reggie laughed and shook her head. She picked up her glass of beer and downed what was left in it. Reggie glanced towards the bar, a crooked smile on her lips.

"You know what? I think I'm ready for another one myself," she said.

She started for the bar, but only got a few steps when Dean reappeared through the crowd holding two glasses filled to the brim. He handed one to her and chugged half of his glass first before putting it onto the table next to Sam.

"All right, that's better," Dean said as he rolled his shoulders and leaned onto the pool table.

He sank three balls into the pockets easily before missing a shot and relinquishing the table to Reggie. She smiled as she strolled to the table, eyeing each possible shot before deciding to shoot for the six ball. It was a rather complicated shot and Sam heard Dean scoff as Reggie leaned down to take aim.

"Six ball in the right corner pocket," Reggie called, ignoring Dean, as she pulled back her pool cue. Sam watched, impressed, as the cue ball sped across the table, hitting the small green ball and sending it rolling across the table and down into the right corner pocket.

"How…?" Dean spluttered as Sam burst into a new fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"My grandfather, Joseph, took a turn as a professional billiard player for a time right after he got out of the Marines. He kind of taught me a few things," Reggie explained as Dean continued to gape at her.

"A few?" Dean grumbled, looking petulant. "You could have told me that in the first place!" He glared between Reggie and the pool table. "Not exactly fair," he continued to mumble as they walked back to their table.

"I guess you're right," Reggie said, shrugging. "But what can I say? It's fun tormenting you, Dean." Sam held his side as he slid off his stool, draining the last of his beer.

"I'm gonna go get another beer, anyone want anything?"

"Yeah," Dean snapped. "Get me another beer and a whiskey chaser."

"I think I'm good for now," Reggie said as she sipped from her glass. Sam nodded and headed over to the bar.

As Sam passed, the music came to an abrupt halt and there was a screeching reverb as a man dressed in black leather pants and a matching leather vest stepped back from the microphone in the center of the stage. Sam winced and stuck his hands over his ears waiting for the sound to dissipate. The guy tapped the microphone a few times and finally the noise stopped.

"Sorry, folks," the man muttered into the microphone before taking a step back and nodding to his drummer. The band began to play, the notes sounding terribly off key. Sam grimaced and continued making his way over to the bar.

Once the bartender had filled his order and handed his change back to him, Sam began his trip back over to the pool tables. When he arrived, though, Reggie and Dean were gone. He scanned the crowd, confused and a little worried, the feeling of dread he'd had the night before rising in his stomach. Sam wandered around the bar, still holding the drinks in his hands and, as he approached the area where the dartboards were, recognized Dean's voice above the music.

"You gonna tell me your grandfather or somebody was a professional dart player too?"

Sam squeezed through a small group of people swaying to the music, which had picked up pace, but still sounded awful, and saw Reggie and Dean standing in front of a dartboard as Dean handed Reggie three red-tailed darts. Dean spotted Sam and started towards him. He took the chaser, gulped down some of his beer, and followed it quickly with the whiskey. "Thanks."

"Sure. Thanks for disappearing on me," Sam grumbled. Dean eyed him for a second, then shook his head.

"Relax, Sammy. It's not like we went very far." He took another sip of his beer and handed it back to Sam. "I was just about to school Reggie on darts."

"School me, huh?" Reggie called from her place behind Dean. "I can't wait to see this."

Dean grinned and strolled over to where she stood. Sam spotted an open table nearby and pulled a stool out to sit down.

He watched as Dean and Reggie played, laughing as his brother grew more and more irritated as Reggie's darts landed easily, matching Dean point for point. It was fun - easy - to hang out in a bar with his brother and their friend and just be normal for a little while. It made it easy for Sam to keep his mind on the present, on the lighthearted banter between Reggie and Dean.

Sam's eyes steadily grew heavy, the last few days finally catching up to him. He glanced down at his watch and saw that it was almost twelve-thirty. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, glancing up again. Dean and Reggie were still playing darts, Reggie leading Dean by one game. Dean walked over, grumbling to himself, to gulp some more of his beer. Sam had lost count on how many his brother'd had, his brain foggy with exhaustion.

"Hey, man," Sam started before having to cover his mouth to stifle another yawn.

"Easy there, Sam. You don't want to dislocate your jaw," Reggie teased as she stepped up next to him and reached for her own drink.

Sam smiled weakly at her. "Guys, I'm beat. Do you think maybe we can call it a night?"

"No way. I'm just about to beat her again," Dean said.

"You think so, do you?" Reggie teased. Dean grabbed his leather jacket and fished the Impala's keys out of one of its pockets.

"Here," Dean said, shoving the keys into Sam's hand. "Go ahead without me. I can get a ride with Reggie." Sam nodded and pulled on his coat. He waved at his brother and Reggie as he started for the exit.

"See ya," Reggie called after him as he disappeared into the crowd.

Sam stepped outside, the cold night air frigid against his warm skin, and made his way over to the Impala. The drive back to the motel seemed to take no time at all. He entered the room without turning on the lights, took off his coat, tossed it on a chair, and stumbled towards his bed. Sam gratefully pushed off his shoes and climbed under the covers, sleep overtaking him within seconds.

* * *

Reggie stood watching Dean as he aimed at the dartboard, his eyes focused and his lips set in a thin line of determination. He took a steady breath and threw his dart. It landed in the center of the board. "Ha! Beat that," he cried as he spun around and beamed confidently at Reggie.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her beer. Reggie could feel the booze in her system, her cheeks warm and her head light. Dean strolled over to the table and lifted his glass, realizing, when nothing hit his lips, that it was empty.

"Huh," he grunted and put the glass back on the table.

Reggie got up and positioned herself to throw her first dart. They were currently tied in winning games and she glanced back at Dean, watching as he picked up her beer glass and drained it.

Shaking her head, Reggie turned back to the dartboard and focused her eyes on the red center, taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes a split second before she threw the first dart. Reggie heard Dean whoop as the dart missed the bull's-eye. She threw the next two the same way, waiting for Dean's triumphant cries after each dart missed their mark.

"I won!" he yelled, throwing his hands into the air and smiling broadly.

"That you did." Reggie returned to the table and grabbed her jacket. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat."

"Yeah." Dean nodded and yawned. "I think it's time we call it a night. Besides, I think I've thoroughly tromped you enough for one night." He grabbed his jacket and started for the door, Reggie staring incredulously after him.

She followed Dean out into the night, the cold air brisk against her warm cheeks. Reggie pulled out her car keys and unlocked the driver's side door, groaning at Dean's unrelenting stream of self-praise, as she leaned across the seat to unlock the passenger door.

"…unbelievable skills like mine. You shouldn't feel that bad," Dean was saying as he climbed into the Plymouth.

Reggie drove down the winding road, listening to Dean continue his arrogant boasting. She turned on the radio, the CD player she'd installed only two years prior immediately starting. Def Leppard's "Euphoria" began to play, "Demolition Man" blasting from the speakers. Reggie turned the volume down some, hoping the music had ceased Dean's vain bragging. She sighed in relief when Dean remained silent. He turned to her, a strange look on his face.

"What?" she asked, concern edging up her spine.

"You're listening to Def Leppard?" Dean asked in disbelief, his green eyes wide.

"Um, yeah…," Reggie answered hesitantly. "I'm kind of partial to heavy metal and '80's rock." Dean continued to stare at her, his mouth hanging open as the music played. "I have a CD case in the back if you want to listen to something else," Reggie offered, her voice rising higher as she began to feel self-conscious under Dean's stare.

Dean blinked, his jaw snapping closed, and he turned to look out the windshield. "No. This is good." They drove in silence for a few minutes and Reggie relaxed again.

"You know, if you would have just waited a few seconds between your last two darts, you probably wouldn't have missed that last shot," Dean stated out of nowhere.

Reggie groaned loudly. She turned into the motel parking lot and pulled up next to the Impala, roughly yanking the car's gear shift into Park.

"That's it!" Reggie cried, yanking off her seatbelt. "I can't listen to another minute of your egotistical bull! I let you win, Dean, all right?" Reggie shouted.

"I'm sure you want to think that…" Dean began to argue.

"No, Dean," Reggie snapped, cutting him off. "I know it! I was _**trying**_to be nice, but you won't shut up and I can't take it anymore!" Reggie glared at Dean. "I - Let - You - Win!" she spat, saying each word with emphasis. "I wasn't even trying with my last three shots."

Reggie continued to glare at Dean, watching as what she said sunk in. She was vaguely aware that the next song on the CD had begun. Joe Elliot's voice crooned out the beginning lyrics to "Promises" as she looked at Dean, waiting for him to respond.

Dean stared back at her, at a loss for words. "You…," Dean started to say before stopping.

Reggie growled, turned off the engine, and threw open her car door. She was halfway across the muddy lot when she heard Dean scrambled from the car. "Why?" he finally managed to call out to her. She continued to her room, listening to his footsteps behind her as he hurried to catch up.

When Reggie had reached her room and unlocked the door, she spun to face him, finding Dean much closer than she'd expected, the proximity startling her. She felt some of her anger ebb away.

"I saw how frustrated you were and I was tired, so I figured letting you win would be the simplest way to balance things out. You would relax about losing to a girl and we could finally leave."

"So, you're an expert at billiards and darts, you have great taste in music. And let's not forget cars, of which you also know the inner workings of…" Dean muttered staring at Reggie as she stood in the doorway of her room.

"What's your point, Dean?"

"You're me, but with, you know...girl parts."

Reggie snorted at Dean and he smiled at her.

"I mean it, Reggie. You even eat like me. If we looked alike, and I wasn't absolutely positive that you were born when you were to different parents, I'd think we were separated at birth!"

"Good thing you're absolutely positive, then," Reggie said, her face going a bright pink as she began to blush. Dean nodded at her, chuckling himself. "I mean, if we were related, then what happened that night in the abandoned apartments would have been…"

"Creepy," Dean finished.

He stared at Reggie, feeling the tension between them intensify. Reggie moved towards him, closing the few inches that had been separating them, and placed her hand gently on his chest, over his heart.

"Are you saying you think I'm creepy?" Reggie asked, her voice husky and low. "Or that what happened was creepy?" She looked up at him, her green eyes bright and expectant, with a small smile on her lips. Dean swallowed against the lump that had risen in his throat.

He shook his head. "No, it definitely wasn't creepy…" he started to say before Reggie silenced him with a groan and a roll of her eyes.

"Just shut up, Dean," Reggie growled as she grabbed Dean's shirt, pulled him to her, and kissed him.

Dean raised his hands to her face, holding it gently between them as he kissed her back, his eyes drifting closed. He felt her wrap her arms around the back of his neck as she pulled herself closer. His hand slipped around her slender waist and he twined his other hand in her hair.

Seconds later, Dean broke off the kiss, breathing heavily. Reggie looked at him, her eyes slightly glazed, her skin flushed. "What?"

"A little intense, don't you think?" Dean asked, giving her a crooked grin.

"I think that's the point."

"The last time…I mean, we got pretty close…" Dean stammered. He took a deep breath, smelling the scents of her shampoo and skin in the air around him. "Things are kind of going in a particular direction…" Dean stared down at her, trying to read her expression.

"I know," Reggie replied bluntly. "And I'm game if you are."

Dean stared at her for a second, reading the assuredness of the words on her face. Then he grinned at Reggie, lifted her up with the arm still tightly wrapped around her waist, and stepped into the room, kicking the door closed with the heel of his boot.

* * *

Dean opened his eyes slowly, his head still thick with sleep. He shifted and felt the weight of Reggie's arm across his stomach. He could feel the rough texture of her cast against his skin, but didn't move it. Dean turned his head on the pillow and stared at the woman as she slept peacefully curled beside him. He used his free hand to brush the hair from her cheek, gently stroking the skin across her cheekbone. Dean smiled to himself as he began to drift away again, Reggie's steady breathing lulling him back to sleep.


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Sam opened his eyes and rolled over onto his back. He yawned and scrubbed his face with his hands, stretching the sleep from his muscles. When he glanced at the bed beside him and saw that it was empty, he bolted upright, scrambling out of bed and rushing to the motel door.

Yanking it open, Sam stumbled out into the cold morning, and scanned the parking lot. His stomach relaxed and slowly, the pounding of his heart lessened, as he saw Reggie's car parked beside the Impala. Sam shivered and headed back into the room, slumping against the closed door in relief. He pulled on the pants he had been wearing the day before and tugged on his shoes, not bothering to tie them.

Just as he was reaching for the door handle, it opened, Dean standing in the doorway. "Mornin' Sammy," Dean greeted him cheerfully. Sam stepped back so that Dean could enter the room and eyed his brother's pleasant mood suspiciously.

"Morning," Sam replied slowly. "What happened to you last night?" Dean grinned at him and began to hum as he gathered up some clean clothes. "Dude?" Sam asked when his brother failed to respond.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, stopping in the doorway to the bathroom.

"Are you going to answer me?"

"I was with Reggie," Dean stated nonchalantly and closed the door. Sam stood staring at the door, digesting his brother's mood and response.

"Okay," Sam muttered a moment later, still confused. It was only a few minutes later that Dean emerged from the bathroom. Sam realized his brother's hair was wet yet he hadn't heard the shower. "Did you just take a shower?"

"I used the one in Reggie's room."

Dean continued to hum to himself as he began collecting the dirty clothes strewn around the room. "We should probably head out soon," Dean stated before going back to his humming.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place and Sam gaped at Dean in shock.

"Dean, you didn't!" Sam finally managed to blurt out. Dean turned to Sam, his Colt in his hand, a crooked grin plastered on his face. Sam gaped at him for a few moments, trying to process everything through his shocked brain.

"I guess you did," he snorted, shaking his head. Sam began shoving his clothes into a bag, glancing at his brother periodically. "I thought you weren't going to go there with her, man?"

Dean shrugged and continued to pack, the smile still wide across his moving lips. The humming was beginning to creep Sam out.

After they had finished packing everything in the room, Sam opened the door and started across the lot to the Impala. As he opened the trunk, he suddenly realized the black car was the only one left in the lot. Sam glanced around as Dean came around the side of the car lugging the heavy duffle bag filled with weapons.

"Where's Reggie?"

"She left a little while ago." Dean dropped his bag into the trunk with a loud thud. "Oh, she wanted me to tell you "to take care and to keep in touch"."

Dean pulled out two pieces of paper from his pocket and handed one of them to Sam. "That's her email address."

Sam stared at the paper, recognizing Reggie's familiar neat scrawl. Dean still held the second piece of paper. He opened it and began to chuckle, raising Sam's curiosity.

"What's that?" Sam asked, craning his neck as he tried to read the paper. Dean's head snapped up and he quickly folded the paper back up and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Nothing," Dean replied shortly. "Ready to hit the road?" He smiled at Sam, waiting for him to respond.

"Sure, okay," Sam replied, his voice drawling out slowly as he eyed his brother suspiciously. Dean ignored the questioning gaze and climbed behind the wheel. He started the car, the engine roaring loudly in the still morning, and waited for Sam, who had left to return the room key.

Sam jogged across the lot to the Impala and opened the passenger door, groaning as music blasted from the car's stereo speakers. "A little early for Def Leppard, don't you think?"

Dean grinned at Sam, shook his head, and spun the knob for the volume, raising it even louder. "Never too early for Def Leppard."

Dean pounded his hands in time with a particular guitar riff then slammed down on the gas pedal. The Impala's tires spun for a second before gaining purchase in the muddy lot. The car shot out onto the highway, heading in the opposite direction of Bridgewater, Dean singing along at the top of his lungs.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

***So, what did you think? Like it? Love it? Wish I'd gone a different route? Please, all reviews are welcome no matter what. Thanks for bearing with me, Sam, Dean, Bobby, and Reggie through this wild ride and I hope you take the time to give me some feedback. Thanks again!***

_***Sept. 24, 2010 - Okay, so I listen to a lot of music when I'm writing, but when it comes to Supernatural, there's only one kind of music you can listen to to get the right feel and keep the creative juices flowing: **rock and roll!** Now, I know some may not call it their cup of tea, but it is the background for almost all the episodes and I've been a big fan since the days of highchairs and bibs. I grew up listening to Nuegent and Jagger (and then some metal was added in later years - thank you Mr. Hetfield!) and I have an old soul. I've seen a few people put playlists at the ends of their chapters or stories and, while I would love to do this, there is just too much to type out._

_So, if you would like to know what is on my I-pod (or I-tunes depending on which computer I'm writing on) under "Dean Winchester Radio" I will give you some of the artists: AC/DC, Metallica, Lynyrd Skynryd, Rush, Bon Jovi, Motley Crue, Boston, Guns-N-Roses, Skid Row, Styx, Quiet Riot, Queensryche, Night Ranger, The Rolling Stones, Def Leppard, Alice In Chains, Deep Purple, Foreigner, Johnny Cash, Black Sabbath, Whitesnake, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Journey (yes, Journey - Wheel In The Sky was used a few times in the recaps!), and, of course, Led Zepplin and Kansas. Hope that helps anyone who would be wondering!***_


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